


First Star I See

by hostilovi



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Artificial Intelligence, Blood and Violence, Body Horror, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Robots, Slow Burn, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-04-05 21:40:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 84,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4195899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostilovi/pseuds/hostilovi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were a number of things Kuroko regretted in his life, and being a starship officer usually was not one of them.</p><p>Kiyoshi Teppei was just something else entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Improbable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kiiyoshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiiyoshi/gifts).



There were a number of things Kuroko regretted in his life, and being a starship officer usually was not one of them. Especially since he had been grounded on this planet for the past handful of years, the senior lieutenant of the station operations.

 

The orders for his immediate return to his home ship and report to his commanding officer had come in that morning as he had been eating breakfast, delivered by one of the young officers. Kuroko had calmly thanked and dismissed them, keeping his composure until the door to his house—the house he had built together with the native people of the planet—was closed.

 

Being grounded was one of two things: a death sentence or a career maker. Kuroko had never really been certain which of the two his commanding had meant for this assignment to be, but he had put down roots. Given up on travelling the stars on wild journeys, like the ones Aomine talked about in his messages.

 

He had been, in his own way, content.

 

He had obediently packed his things, made his goodbyes, and left the station on a shuttle that smelled of too-old, filtered air and tried not to panic at the feeling that he would never come back to this beautiful planet.

 

<Welcome back aboard, Lieutenant Kuroko,> the neutral tone of the ship’s AI said as he stepped through the airlock, slightly out of sync with the brusquer greeting of the officer on standby.

 

“Welcome back aboard the _Tenebris_ , Lieutenant,” she said, giving a cursory salute. The petite Auxiliary soldier at her shoulder saluted in perfect unison with her but stayed quiet. “I trust there were no issues with your travel here?”

 

“None, thank you, Officer,” he replied smoothly, following them out of the airlock, the weight of his uniform—too warm, and rarely worn down on the planet—was more comfortable in the cool air, but strangely unfamiliar. He adjusted the collar as he followed at the officer’s heels to where no doubt the captain would be waiting to receive him.

 

<Thank you,> he replied silently through his adapter’s channel to the ship AI. Unnecessary, perhaps. But the _Tenebris_ had always treated him well, even if he hadn’t wanted to be called back.

 

 

 

 

 

Kuroko was regretting his career choice more and more.

 

“Captain,” he said. Stolid, polite. He was certain only the _Tenebris_ was picking up on his agitation, since he and his captain had never been particularly close, so she had never learned the certain tics that would give his true feelings away. The AI had voiced its gentle recommendation of visiting the medical bay if he could not lower his currently alarmingly elevated heart-rate. “All due respect, but I cannot accept this order.”

 

“Unless it’s a dishonorable discharge from service you’re wanting, Lieutenant, you don’t have a choice in the matter.” She exhaled through her nose and made an aggrieved gesture towards the chair Kuroko had refused upon entering her office. “Just sit, Lieutenant, and I will explain.”

 

“All due respect—”

 

“That’s an order, Lieutenant. Sit.”

 

He sat, controlling his breathing purposefully and looking just past his captain’s face to the blank wall beyond. As upset as he was, no good could come of angering Aida Riko.

 

“I know you’ve been planet-side for a while now, so I let the matter slide. I have more important things to deal with than assigning Auxiliaries to grounded officers. But now there’s a push from Central Command that nobody can afford to ignore. This isn’t just about following standard procedure, Lieutenant, it’s a matter of security.”

 

Kuroko continued to stare at the wall. Unless Central Command was planning on starting another war, there were no security threats he could think of. “May I speak freely, Captain?”

 

“You may.”

 

“I do not agree with Central Command, and I do not agree with the practice of keeping the Auxilliaries."

 

“All due respect, Lieutenant,” she said dryly but not, Kuroko thought, without sympathy, “but the Auxilliaries fulfill a purpose that have allowed us to progress as far as we have.”

 

“I’m not saying I’m not grateful. But to take the bodies of the dead—”

 

“And give them new purpose is wrong? We’re not doing anything they haven’t agreed to. They chose to donate their bodies upon termination of life.”

 

That doesn’t make it right, Kuroko wanted to snap, but he held his tongue, knowing that no matter how much he argued it would do no good. But of course they chose to donate their bodies; there was a silent pressure from the government that was impossible to ignore--a civilians duty to serve. And with a monetary incentive for those who signed up, it was little choice at all for most families. For the past centuries, a proper burial, be it cremation or entombment, was a privilege belonging only to the very wealthy.

 

“It’s the standard procedure,” the Captain repeated, leaning back in her chair as though sensing the battle was won. “If you didn’t want to deal with Auxiliaries, you’re in the wrong field, Lieutenant. You will receive your Auxiliary companion tomorrow.”

 

“And my assignment?”

 

“For now, you will resume normal duties upon the _Tenebris_. I will notify you of any further details.” Kuroko nodded his understanding, and she nodded back. “Dismissed.”

 

He stood, still boiling with emotions and left the room. No one seemed to notice his presence in the halls which suited Kuroko just fine as he walked, letting the ship AI guide him back to his assigned quarters; after five years, he had forgotten how unbearably alike all the hallways looked on the ship.

 

“Tenebris,” he said, aloud since he was in the privacy of his room, “have the details of my Auxiliary assignment been made public record?”

 

<They are not public record, but your status gives you the appropriate access. Would you like the details directly imported or sent to your mail?>

 

“Mail, if you don’t mind.” He had never fully gotten comfortable with extensive reading on his port, the one that allowed the words to scroll within the privacy of his own eyes. Once the small notification hummed distantly in his adapter, Kuroko called up the information on the screen embedded in one of the four walls.

 

There was little enough to be had, beyond physical stats, the standard photograph, and a name. If the Auxiliary had been previously assigned to other officers, the records were either beyond his access or wiped clean. That was not what gave him pause.

 

It was the smile. Soft and barely there, but Kuroko could see the very natural, gentle upturn of his lips. While Auxiliaries commonly retained some of the personality they had from their previous life, their capacity for feeling and expressing emotions was severely affected. This translated to most of them never shifting their facial features from blank neutrality.

 

Kiyoshi Teppei looked very human.

 

He had been human, of course. The radical factions that spoke out about the creation of the Auxiliaries as the desecration of life would say otherwise. The military classified them as weapons, the same as they would a sidearm. He had seen officers treat their Auxiliaries as such, but he had also seen them treated with the same respect as a human.

 

Kuroko wasn’t sure what he believed about their humanity. But he had wanted no part in having an Auxiliary companion, not since his disastrous first assignment.

 

“Tenebris, is there no other information available about this Auxiliary?”

 

There was the briefest of pauses. <I have given you all the information your security level allows, Lieutenant Kuroko.>

 

That was that, then.

 

He made a small gesture and the screen went dark again. He took a few more calming breaths in the silence of his room, taking his fond memories of the planet he had left behind and filing them neatly away to deal with later. He did not look to the door that led to the adjoining room meant for his Auxiliary.

 

<Lunch is now being served in the officer’s hall,>  _Tenebris_ said. It was the standard notification, one spoken through the adapters of all officers on-board, but it was enough to pull Kuroko from his downward trailing thoughts.

 

“Thank you,” he said. Unnecessary. But when he collected his lunch, his dispensed tray held a very good approximation of the sweet vanilla drink he had become enamored with, planet-side.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was difficult to sleep. The soft whirring of the starship’s machinery was different than the noises the station made, and certainly different than the noises his little house had made. Even if not for that, Kuroko suspected the impending meeting with his new Auxiliary companion would have kept him awake.

 

If nothing else, it gave him extra time to straighten out his horrendous bedhead.

 

He received the notification shortly after breakfast, the _Tenebris_ alerting him of his captain and his new Auxiliary awaiting him in one of the briefing rooms. Kuroko walked at a sedate pace, taking the time to further steady himself and make sure he did not slip in front of his captain. When he entered the room, his eyes were drawn immediately to the large figure with his back to him, then to his captain who had a cup of tea in hand.

 

“Ah, Lieutenant, right on time.”

 

“Good morning, Captain Riko,” he responded smoothly, keeping his gaze fixed on her. She gave him an intent once-over that made him wonder if the quiet rumor about her visual implants were true, that she really could read nearly as much as the ship’s AI could from one look. He sincerely hoped not. There were enough officers on-board that saw more than they should.

 

“This here is your new partner, Auxiliary Kiyoshi Teppei.” She gestured to the man standing at the window and he turned after a beat.

 

The smile was much the same as in the picture, but Kuroko was taken aback by just how warm the expression was. How it reached his dark brown eyes like he was completely human. He stepped forward towards Kuroko, looming over him in a way that set Kuroko’s teeth on edge, no matter how warm and pleasant that smile was.

 

“Pleased to meet you, Lieutenant Kuroko,” he said, unmistakably with good cheer, giving him a sloppy salute instead of a bow. “I’m Kiyoshi Teppei.”

 

“He’s just come out of stasis for the first time in a hundred years,” the captain said, making no effort to conceal the amusement in her voice. “Please try to be patient as the kinks work themselves out.”

 

Kiyoshi laughed. Kuroko tried not to startle at the sound—he had never met an Auxiliary that laughed, not like that, not in a way that was natural and brightened its features like that—but knew he was staring. “I feel like a man reborn!” Kiyoshi said, patting his left leg. “The Medical bay kindly fixed me up with a new prosthetic and everything.”

 

“I’m speaking with the Lieutenant, Auxiliary,” Riko said mildly.

 

He bowed his head with a smile. “Of course, my apologies for the interruption, Captain.”

 

The captain set down her teacup. “As I was saying, your Auxiliary is fresh out of stasis, so the adjustment period for your teamwork may be longer than the usual. I’ve already scheduled a private training room for your use through the week, so see to it that you use that time wisely.”

 

“Thank you, Captain.”

 

“Any questions?”

 

Kuroko had several questions, including but not limited to who he must have pissed off at Central Command to end up with this kind of Auxiliary.

 

“Captain, I was unaware that Auxiliaries from that long ago were still considered usable,” Kuroko said instead. If Kiyoshi was bothered by his comment, it didn't register on his face.

 

She seemed troubled by that comment, however. Her expression shuttered, going as carefully blank as his own.

 

“This is…a special case, you might say.” Her gaze went distant in a way that Kuroko knew meant she was calling up data commands through her port. “I will have some files forwarded to you that should explain some of it. But I will warn you, Lieutenant, that what you read in those files is not to become the topic of conversation on my ship. Is that clear?”

 

As if there was anyone on this ship he wanted to share things with anymore.

 

Perhaps that was unfair of him. None of the other Teiko students were assigned to the _Tenebris_ , but many of the former Seirin trainees had been kind enough. He inhaled slowly and exhaled slower.

 

“Perfectly clear, Captain. Thank you.”

 

A few more words were exchanged, meaningless pleasantries. Kiyoshi Teppei followed him out the door and walked beside him, shortening his long strides to match his. It was like having an overlarge dog at his side—an unfamiliar one that may or may not snap at him. The Auxiliary kept turning his head this way and that, taking in his new surroundings with rapt and enthusiastic attention.

 

Thinking of dogs made him think of Nigou, whom he’d been forced to leave in the care of the station he had left so recently. Kuroko counted up and down from one to ten in his head, ignoring the strange looks a few of the other officers they passed in the halls gave him. Him and Kiyoshi.

 

“I’ll be needing to go to Medical again,” Kiyoshi announced abruptly, just slightly ahead of the notification that pinged softly into Kuroko’s port. A readjustment to his prosthetic, to fine-tune the workings now that it had been attached for a 24-hour period.

 

“Yes, I just received notification.” Only a lifetime of veiling his emotions kept the peevish tone from his voice. Kuroko paused, taking a moment to orient himself and figure out where the nearest lift that could carry them to the lower decks was. A large hand, warm, settled between his shoulder blades with all the delicacy of a bird alighting upon a branch.

 

Kuroko flinched and the touch withdrew. An impression of warmth remained behind, making his skin tingle where his hand had been.

 

“Sorry for startling you. There’s a lift nearby that we can use.” Kiyoshi opened his mouth, probably to say where or to more impertinently say he could lead the way, then shut it, his soft eyes lidding.

 

<Down this hall and turn left at the first junction,> his voice murmured right into his head, his actual lips still even though they twitched further upward when Kuroko nodded at him.

 

Kiyoshi never did fall into step behind him as was the standard position of all modern Auxiliaries, instead walking beside him as a fellow officer might. For all that Kuroko had been lacking an Auxiliary for years, he couldn’t shake the unnerving sense of having his back exposed—nor the feeling that whatever hundred-year-old habits Kiyoshi had were not a mere matter of _kinks_ to be worked out as the Captain had claimed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“How did you lose your leg?” Kuroko asked. It had been hours since they had taken the lift down to the Medical bay; the prosthetic was having compatibility issues with the rest of Kiyoshi’s considerably older wirings and the fine-tuning had turned into more of a major overhaul. The Medical officer working on it was a newer recruit, bright-eyed and very eager to work with such an unusual Auxiliary. Kuroko could see him working with great focus across the room.

 

Kiyoshi shifted slightly on the bed he was sitting on, his impossibly large hands coming to rest on his thighs. He flexed the foot of his right leg, making the absence of the other leg, starting above the knee and down, more apparent.

 

“You didn’t have time to review my file?” he asked, his voice mild with only the faintest hint of disapproval. Or maybe disappointment. Either way, it rankled at him that a century-old robot-human hybrid was casting judgement on his time management.

 

“I did. The file didn’t mention your leg.” Nor had the _Tenebris_ , though he could hardly blame the ship’s AI for not bringing up such a minor detail.

 

A tension Kuroko hadn’t noticed bled out from his shoulders.

 

“Strange.” Kiyoshi let out a small laugh but the sound was much different than the laugh he had let loose in the briefing room. Those hands curled into the dull blue fabric of his uniform. “Usually there’s an overabundance of information in personnel files. I keep forgetting I was asleep for too long.”

 

By sleep, he had to be referring to his long period in stasis. Kuroko had never heard any AI refer to it as such.

 

“It’s more a matter of access than the times changing,” he offered, not caring for the grim set of his Auxiliary’s jaw. Kuroko now wished he had let the silence remain instead of trying to satisfy his curiosity. “I’m only a Lieutenant, after all.”

 

“The mysterious sixth Lieutenant of the Teiko Generation of Miracles, the one they called the Phantom.” Kiyoshi turned his gaze to him, smile all but gone and something a little too keen in his gaze. “It’s a fine rank to hold, Kuroko, especially for one your age.”

 

It appeared that he wasn’t the only one digging around in records for information, but Kiyoshi had been much more successful, clearly. Kuroko looked away, wishing he had something to occupy his hands.

 

“Ah, and now I’ve upset you. Was it because I called you Kuroko? Lieutenant just seems so formal.” Kiyoshi’s voice was back to his gentle lightness, but when Kuroko glanced his way, his face was far from gentle and there was a coiled tension in his spine that reminded him of a predator.

 

“I’m not upset,” he lied blandly.

 

“Your vitals say otherwise. Although I’ll warn you in advance, you’re more likely to hurt your hand than my face if you throw that punch.” Kuroko forcibly unclenched his hands and spread them flat on his thighs, palms coated lightly with sweat. He hadn’t even realized. Kiyoshi’s smile returned but didn’t reach his eyes. “We’re in Medical though, so I suppose it’s the opportune place, if you wanted to.”

 

He resisted the urge to close his eyes and instead focused on the broad sweep of Kiyoshi’s eyebrows. “I’m not going to punch you, Kiyoshi,” he said.

 

“What a relief.”

 

The Auxiliary did not sound the least bit relieved.

 

“You never answered my question,” Kuroko pointed out.

 

“My leg? It was an unfortunate accident, that’s all. Do I call you Kuroko or do I call you Lieutenant?”

 

Kuroko sighed, glancing towards the Medical officer and wishing he would just finish with the leg already. It was long past lunch and at this rate, they would never make it to the training room today. And Kiyoshi’s evasion of his question didn’t pass by him.

 

“Just Kuroko is fine, aside from formal situations.”

 

An uncomfortable silence fell between them.

 

“I must remind you of him. Ogiwara Shigehiro. His file is still linked to yours, so I read about what happened. I’m sorry.”

 

This time, Kuroko did close his eyes. “Don’t,” he warned, soft and low.

 

More silence. The ship whirred around them, just below the sound of the medical machinery chirping and beeping through the bay.

 

“There was an incident,” Kiyoshi said conversationally, as though he had never brought up mention of Kuroko’s first and what he had hoped would his last Auxiliary companion. “Before I became what you see now. My entire training squad was out doing a routine scouting mission planet-side and was gunned down by unknown hostiles. By the time our commanding officers and the medical unit made it to us, we were all long gone. My leg couldn’t be saved. The rest of me was considered salvageable.”

 

Kuroko looked over but Kiyoshi had leaned back and closed his eyes, his body poised in unnatural relaxation. Only the faint rise and fall of his chest told him the man was still breathing.

 

“You didn’t have to tell me.”

 

“I didn’t,” Kiyoshi agreed.

 

“Your team,” Kuroko ventured after a few moments passed. “Are they all like you now?”

 

“There’s nobody quite like me, Kuroko,” he said. The words suggested playfulness but the tone fell too flat for it. “We were all reborn as Auxiliaries, if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

He wondered if they, too, had been dragged out of stasis, but kept that thought to himself. Instead he consulted the files that Captain Riko had forwarded to him through his port.

 

The information within answered none of his questions about Kiyoshi’s origins, and why a century-old Auxiliary was being pulled out of stasis instead of him being assigned newer one. There certainly wasn’t a shortage. Frustrated, he skimmed through all the words one more time, trying to see anything that stood out. There were references to a special tactical squad, but in the past tense. Was Central Command trying to rebuild that? If they were, surely there were more qualified officers to hand Kiyoshi off to. In any case, there was no war ongoing. There was no need for such a thing.

 

The medical officer returned, chattering happily away about how he had switched the wiring and the required maintenance information to Kiyoshi. Kuroko closed the files and blinked a few times to clear his vision. There was an unpleasant twist in his stomach as he watched Kiyoshi being fitted with his new leg—all silver and pale grey metal and plastics. The ones that resembled human flesh were more expensive, and considered unnecessary for beings that weren’t strictly categorized as human or alive.

 

 

 

 

 

Leaving the Medical deck was a relief. The air on any starship was always sterile and cool, but the air in Medical was less tolerable to him, carrying the faint, metallic scent of blood and electricity.

 

Kuroko tapped the button for the second training deck where their room was reserved and Kiyoshi frowned, speaking to him for the first time since they exited the Medical bay doors.

 

“You haven’t eaten lunch yet, Kuroko,” he said, almost scolding.

 

“I’m not hungry.” Maybe he was. His insides felt all twisted up, trying not to think of the peaceful planet he left, trying not to think of why Kiyoshi was now his new companion, trying not to think, desperately, of Ogiwara.

 

“You haven’t eaten in over six hours.” Kiyoshi reached over him, clearing Kuroko’s command and tapping the button that would take them to the dining hall. “Even if it’s something small, you should eat.”

 

“Stop checking my vitals, Kiyoshi. I’m aware of my condition.” Kuroko could smell him in these close quarters, something both sweet and cold. He reached for the screen again and Kiyoshi moved to block it.

 

“It’s my job to check your vitals. You can’t expect the Tenebris to spend all her time getting after you when she has an entire ship to run.” He was smiling again, bouncing a little in place as he tested the strength of his new leg.

 

“Please move aside, Kiyoshi. Captain Riko has assigned us a training room and I fully intend to—”

 

“I have to eat too, you know. Maybe you’re not hungry, but I am.” He tipped his head to one side, strands of his ashy-brown hair slipping over his face. If it grew any longer, Kiyoshi would need to tie it back. Did his hair even grow? <Please,> he added through the adapter. The lift was already moving, the motion all but imperceptible except for the vague feeling of the air pressure changing minutely around him.

 

Kuroko didn’t respond with either argument or assent, and Kiyoshi relaxed, shifting back so he stood by his side.

 

“I wonder if Tenebris knows how to make sweets. There were these maple candies I used to love. I bet she could figure it out.” He started humming softly to himself, an unfamiliar tune that nonetheless tugged at Kuroko’s heart, bringing about a feeling of nostalgia that eased the anxious twisting in his belly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There were three things Kuroko knew for certain as he settled into his bed that night, never having made it to the training room at all.

 

One, Kiyoshi being brought out of stasis was a signal that Central Command was up to something suspicious.

 

Two, Kiyoshi was more masterful at manipulating people than he was.

 

Three, Kuroko wanted nothing to do with Central and Kiyoshi alike.

 

He deliberately focused on the darkness of the ceiling above him so he wouldn’t be tempted to look towards the door that Kiyoshi was behind.

 

<If you're having difficulty sleeping, I can get you a pill from Medical.>

 

Kiyoshi's voice, filtered right into his head, made him go tense and he glanced to the door. It was shut, plain and unassuming as ever. It made him long for the wood slats of his planet home, the fuzzy companionship of Nigou sleeping by his legs.

 

<Stop monitoring my condition,> he said back through the adapter, letting the note of mild irritation slip into the words.

 

A bubble of laughter echoed in his head, so lively it was hard to believe it hadn't been done outwardly. <We're connected, you and I. I can't help it.>

 

<I urge you to try.> He hesitated slightly, turning on his side so he didn't face the door. <It’s a dermal patch now, not a pill. Most things are.>

 

<Is it really? Fascinating. I'm sure that must be good for the older folks. My grandparents would have loved it, that's for sure.>

 

Kuroko held his tongue about the expense of the patches for those outside the military's care, thinking of the pain patches he sent home for his grandmother's arthritis because all his family could afford were homeopathic remedies from the local apothecary—still effective, but it didn't have the potency of government drugs.

 

Kiyoshi was silent, in his head and beyond the door, for long enough that Kuroko began to drift off.

 

He dreamed of an iron cage and a man dressed in shadows, singing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Morning was a strange affair. Kiyoshi ruffled his hair upon seeing his bedhead after slipping in through the connecting door, fully dressed, cheerful and bright-eyed. Kuroko didn't care for that, slapping his hand aside, although not before noting how much restrained power his fingers held. He accompanied him to breakfast, and his near constant conversation was a new but not entirely unpleasant thing. The other officers eyed them both, refraining from commenting on the oddity of his new Auxiliary. Mitobe and his small, talkative Auxiliary, greeted him from across the table, as did a few of the other former Seirin trainees. Kuroko refrained from extended conversation with any of them, not fully comfortable with the crew after being so long planet-side.

 

Then came the training room.

 

Kiyoshi’s entire face brightened as the training room settled into the usual basketball court Kuroko had always favored for days when he didn't feel up to combat. Start slow, Captain Riko had warned.  Build a rapport before attempting higher level simulations.

 

“You play?” he asked eagerly.

 

“I do,” he confirmed. A tiny smile formed on his face before he could stop it, his mind calling up memories of the good times with his fellow Teiko trainees, then later Kagami. They were unstoppable together.

 

“I was so afraid the game would have died out while I was sleeping!” Strange that he should refer to his hundred-year storage as sleep instead of what it really was. Or maybe that’s what it had felt like, to him. Kuroko had never asked any Auxiliary what it felt like. He scooped up the basketball that had appeared, spinning it between his hands with a familiar grace. “I’m glad.”

 

A soft notification pinged through his adapter and Kuroko’s smile faded. It must be urgent, to bypass the training room walls.

 

“I have to take this,” he apologized, gesturing towards his head. Kiyoshi nodded. He seemed too distracted by the court and the ball in his hands to pay Kuroko much mind.

 

“I’ll just warm up until you’re ready then?”

 

“Please do.”

 

Kuroko let the message scroll across his vision. It wasn’t urgent at all, not really, and Kuroko was just about to ask _Tenebris_ to make sure the training room’s blocking system was fully functioning when he saw the origin of the message.

 

The same planet he had been forced to abandon not but two days ago.

 

He let the words scroll, slower this time. It was just a standard-issued report, the same he got all the time when he was living on the station. They must not have removed him from the security listing planet-side, or perhaps someone had kept him on purposefully, knowing that he would want reports on the status of the station and the native inhabitants they were assisting.

 

It was short, but he read it twice. All was well, it seemed. The station was still trying to clear Nigou to come up to the ship, with little progress so far. The required documentation was extensive. With a sigh, he closed the message and blinked to clear his vision properly.

 

Instead of calling out to him, Kuroko watched Kiyoshi dance across the floor, avoiding invisible opponents. His body was built for the game. Even though his smile was smaller than usual, Kiyoshi shone with joy and energy, and Kuroko didn’t think he had ever seen him more alive than in that moment. Or more beautiful.

 

Perhaps he could feel Kuroko staring or maybe he had glanced over coincidentally, but Kiyoshi grinned and waved a hand at him.

 

“There’s no trouble I hope?”

 

“No.” _Nothing I’d care to discuss with you, at any rate_. “Nothing worth mentioning. You play quite well, Kiyoshi.”

 

He laughed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. His skin was flushed and his chest moved easily with his breaths. "It comes back easier than I thought. My team and I, we used to...I don't suppose the training schools still have the sports divisions anymore?"

 

"Not for basketball. Not officially," he amended. There weren't enough interested people to make it official, but that didn't stop the trainees from playing after-dark. Or even the officers. "I had a team, in school."

 

"And now?"

 

Kuroko shrugged, heart sinking with a pang of loneliness for Kagami's exuberant presence, for the dysfunctional company of his Miracle companions. Or Momoi, who had left them all sooner than anyone liked, offered a captainship halfway through her last year of training. Aomine had followed after her after their graduation, as all of them expected. Akashi vanished to the perilous borderlands with a captaincy of his own, leaving the rest of them to disperse, connected by threads thin as spider-silk.

 

“Sometimes the officers play.” Kuroko rarely did, with Kagami transferred to a newer, bigger ship that saw more action. It was too difficult for people to catch his passes. Too difficult for people to see him, instead of through him. “Or they did, when I left for planet-side duties.”

 

“Perhaps we should see about getting a little team of our own started,” he said with a smile.

 

“What about your team, Kiyoshi?” He lifted his hands so he could pass the ball. He did; the slightly gritty texture of the basketball, the gentle sting as it met his palm and the hollow ring it made upon contact—it all felt like coming home.

 

“We were pretty good,” Kiyoshi said, even though Kuroko hadn’t asked.

 

“You played in a division?”

 

“Yes. Complete with tournaments.” There was something unreadable in his expression. Kuroko dribbled a few times, and even though his ball handling was average at best, Kiyoshi seemed transfixed by the movement, his soft brown eyes never wavering.

 

“Did you ever place?”

 

“First.” He sounded neither proud nor humble about it. In fact, he sounded quite sad. “Every time, we took first. They called us kings.”  He reached out and stole the ball in a graceful movement, spinning away with it to drive towards the hoop. Kuroko didn’t press the issue as they played, but secretly thought there was indeed something _noble_ about Kiyoshi, something kind and stalwart.

 

They weren’t keeping score. It was just friendly play. It was just a way to build a rapport and a working relationship.

 

It was Kuroko’s loss, 22-10.

 

The walk back to his rooms was quiet, the curious glances of the other officers towards him—towards _Kiyoshi_ and him—itching more than the sweat drying on his skin.

 

“You play well, you know, Kuroko.”

 

“So do you,” Kuroko replied after a few moments, not certain if he was trying to be flattering or sarcastic.

 

“I mean it.” Their elbows brushed and he felt a small shock run up his arm through the brief point of contact. “You’re well-suited to being the foundation of a team.”

 

<Something tells me maybe you were, once,> he added through the adapter.

 

Kuroko didn’t answer. He didn’t know if he could.

 

 


	2. Damages

Kuroko was woken out of a dead sleep by the blaring sound of a high-security clearance call coming through his adapter. He blinked groggily for a few moments, long enough that Kiyoshi slammed through the door, cold-eyed, shirtless, and armed with a gun.

 

He wouldn’t wonder where he had obtained the gun until later.

 

“What orders, Lieutenant?”

 

Kuroko barely recognized his voice. But he felt instantly more awake seeing the weapon in his hands, and the scars that curled around his torso—pale, jagged snakes that seemed to move as the Auxiliary drew breath. He shook his head once and accepted the call.

 

“Lieutenant Kuroko speaking,” he said hoarsely.

 

“Kuroko! What the hell, man, how long does it take to answer a call?”

 

“Kagami.” Relief flooded through him as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He gestured for Kiyoshi to stand down, but the Auxiliary continued to stand in place awaiting his orders. “Can you hold on for a moment?” At his confirmation, Kuroko transferred the call to his wallscreen, keeping it muted and blank for the time being.

 

“Kiyoshi, it’s just a call from a friend.” He stood and cautiously approached him. When Kiyoshi didn’t respond, doing nothing but stare right through him, Kuroko placed a careful hand on his arm, giving it a gentle push until slowly, slowly, Kiyoshi lowered the gun.

 

“What orders, Lieutenant?”

 

“It’s a call. From a friend. There are no orders.” Something was amiss with him, but he couldn’t tell what. Kuroko wasn’t certain that Kiyoshi recognized him, either.

 

“The security clearance, sir—”

 

“He’s out in the borderlands, all his calls get flagged—”

 

“The Vanguard.”

 

It was an antiquated term, but not incorrect. “That’s right. You can go back to bed, Kiyoshi.” A thin, ghost of a smile crossed Kiyoshi’s face, and then he turned smoothly on his heel and returned to his quarters. Kuroko stared after him for a tired minute, then flipped his screen on, letting the sound filter—quietly—to the room.

 

“Do you have any idea what time it is, Kagami?” he asked, deadpan, even though seeing Kagami’s face after so long made him feel lighter. Kagami grinned, barely apologetic.

 

“I know, Kuroko, I know, but if I didn’t call now I don’t know when else I’d get the chance to. Nice hair.”

 

“Nice eyebrows.”

 

“Rude! Hey, did you…did you have company over? That took you awhile to get on.” He blushed lightly at his own suggestion. Kuroko sighed, glancing towards the door reflexively.

 

“Something like that.”

 

“So it’s true. They shoved a new Auxiliary on you.” His expression turned serious. “I was surprised enough to see you pulled from planet-side after all the solid work you’d done there, but then Midorima was having a fit, talking about people dragging up old Auxiliaries from storage and I wondered if you got assigned.”

 

“I did. We’ve been training for a few days now.” He was at a loss of what else to say.

 

“Shit, Kuroko,” he leaned closer to the screen, brows furrowed. “You okay?”

 

Kuroko thought about it briefly. He wasn’t angry about it anymore, or especially distraught.

 

“I’m adjusting,” he eventually replied. “Kiyoshi is unusual, but he’s not difficult to get along with. He plays basketball,” he added. It felt important.

 

Kagami flashed a smile but his eyes still held concern. He was softer-hearted than he liked to let on. “Can’t be all that bad a guy, then.”

 

Kuroko nodded. “Thank you for asking. You look tired.”

 

The redhead shrugged, scratching at his neck. “If I’m not tired, I’m sleeping. Just how it goes, I guess. I tried to get Aomine on the call, but he passed out after shift, the idiot.”

 

“Your ship is working with Momoi’s crowd again?”

 

“Yeah, not that anyone’s too happy about it aside from Alex.”

 

Captain Garcia was an oddball but very competent. And also an unabashed lover of women. Kuroko smiled—not at the thought of Alex and Momoi’s friendship, but at Kagami’s lie about not being happy. He and Aomine were almost too alike to be friends, but they managed. They looked after each other. He was glad that his friends had each other’s backs.

 

They talked for a while, inconsequential things. Kuroko teased him about how Midorima acted like his big brother. Kagami scoffed and asked if he ever planned on growing any taller. It was good. Familiar.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked later.

 

“I’ll be fine,” Kuroko assured him, hoping that it was true.

 

The moment the screen flicked off, the room felt too empty and quiet. He checked the time—three hours before he was meant to be getting up. Even if he fell asleep, he doubted it would be restful.

 

“Are you awake?” he finally asked of the closed door.

 

“Yes, but you shouldn’t be.” Kiyoshi opened the door. He was wearing a shirt this time, but it was hard to forget what was underneath. Kuroko was willing to bet not all of those nasty scars were from his Auxiliary wiring being put in.

 

“I don’t know how to ask this politely, so I’m just going to ask.” Kuroko took a breath. “Was that a malfunction with your drives? What happened earlier?”

 

He tilted his head, puppy-like, baring his teeth in a chilling smile. “I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

 

“Kuroko,” he corrected softly. The smile slipped away, the tiniest glimmer of confusion crossing Kiyoshi’s face. For a few moments, the room was silent as they watched each other, two strange animals testing their territory. “It’s Kuroko. Was it a malfunction? Your drives?”

 

“If I said yes?”

 

“Then I’d take you to Medical.”

 

“And then?”

 

“They would…” They would put him back into storage, most likely. An Auxiliary with old drives wouldn’t be worth the repair cost, even if he _had_ been chosen especially to be active again. “They would assess the situation. Was it your drives, Kiyoshi?”

 

“What if I said no?”

 

Then Kuroko would still have to take him to Medical, only this time they would clear his personality ports. Standard procedure. Kiyoshi smiled down at him, dropping a hand on his shoulder. His skin was unbelievably warm even with Kuroko’s shirt between them.

 

“I have a favor to ask, Kuroko.”

 

He felt better, a little, at hearing his name fall from his lips instead of the honorary titles.

 

“Yes,” he said, more breath than noise.

 

“Please forget what happened before. Please let me stay with you.” There was a desperate edge to his voice and it rang wrong in his ears.

 

“That’s two favors,” Kuroko managed to say. The hand on his shoulders tightened incrementally.

 

“I know it’s a lot, but Kuroko—”

 

“I want you to stay.”

 

The words were out before he knew they were coming. Kuroko wasn’t certain which of them was more surprised, but Kiyoshi’s other hand came up to his other shoulder and the man held on like Kuroko was the only thing keeping him standing. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t.

 

“Thank you,” he said, so purely grateful that he didn’t know what to do.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“It’s not my place to trouble you.”

 

“You’ve been troubling me all this time. I don’t see why you’d stop now.”

 

He laughed. _There, that’s more like you._ “Later, perhaps. You should get some sleep.”

 

“So should you.”

 

Kiyoshi’s smile went hollow.

 

“Auxiliaries don’t need much in the way of sleep. Even old models like me.”

 

Of course. After at least a century’s worth of storage, Kiyoshi had probably had his fill of sleeping. They stood there, in the transitional space between their rooms. Kuroko wondered if being an Auxiliary felt like that—like you were stuck in transition. Not dead and not alive. Not human and not robot.

 

“Tell me,” Kuroko demanded gently of him, feeling for the bracelet on his wrist he was never without.

 

“Or else?”

 

“It’s just seems like it would be better to talk about it.”

 

Kiyoshi was quiet, running a hand through his hair and then leaving it rest on the back of his neck.

 

“How about you tell me a little about Ogiwara, and I tell you what happened?” he offered, tone light. Kuroko clenched his jaw, fingers clamping over the bracelet.

 

“You have access to his file. There’s nothing more to tell.”

 

“All I have are facts. That doesn’t tell me anything about you or your feelings. And that’s what matters to me, Kuroko.”

 

 _So you can figure out how damaged of goods I am?_ he thought bitterly.

 

<We’re all damaged goods, Kuroko. In one way or another.>

 

He flinched. This, this was why having an Auxiliary was so dangerous. He had meant to keep that thought to himself, but it had been so strong, and he felt the anguish of it down in his soul, and it had projected out on its own.

 

“Just because you got hurt doesn’t make you weak.”

 

Kuroko had several narrowly passed psych evals from _back then_ that would beg to differ.

 

“It makes you human, Kuroko. Nobody’s impervious. Not me, not you.”

 

Kuroko went to bed. Every time he closed his eyes, he either saw oppressive darkness or Kiyoshi’s shirtless body. He wasn’t sure which he preferred, but neither would let him fall asleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Boss says it’s time to switch to guns.”

 

First Officer Hyuuga was lurking in wait directly outside Kuroko’s door, standing with his arms crossed and mechanical eyes focused angrily on him. Kuroko stared back at him, unnerved but keeping his expression appropriately bland, while Kiyoshi crowded behind him.

 

“What’s this about?” he asked cheerily.

 

One of Hyuuga’s eyes flicked to him, the other staying firmly fixed on Kuroko still.

 

“Auxiliary, I would thank you to address you First Officer with—”

 

“Kiyoshi Teppei, sir, that’s my name.” One of his arms extended over Kuroko’s shoulder to offer a handshake. Hyuuga’s jaw clenched, and he pointedly ignored the hand.

 

“I know _exactly_ who you are,” he began tightly, his voice taking on the all-too-familiar tone of a lecture. Kuroko threw an elbow behind him, striking Kiyoshi’s middle. It wasn’t as soft as he expected, but it did the trick. The arm came down and the man exhaled in a large rush.

 

“We’ll start with a gun simulation this afternoon, First Officer,” he said smoothly, polite, all the while his heart sinking.

 

“No sims, Lieutenant.” Something softer crossed Hyuuga’s face for an instant as both eyes moved between him and Kiyoshi. Measuring. Calculating. Making the comparison to Ogiwara, no doubt. “You’re in the pit with me today.”

 

Kuroko cringed but saluted. Neatly, efficiently. Hyuuga still hesitated.

 

“The paperwork, with your dog. I’ll pass word to the Boss, see if we can’t speed it along.”

 

“I would appreciate that, First Officer.”

 

He nodded, face hardening back up, conversation done. Once more, both eyes flicked to Kiyoshi. The faintest of whirrings could be heard as the implanted eyeballs shifted and adjusted in their sockets, interpreting light and shadow through sterile polycarb and titanium fixtures.

 

“13:00. Be there.”

 

“Of course, sir,” Kuroko replied, Kiyoshi’s much more energetic reply a slight echo.

 

The moment the First Officer was around the bend, Kiyoshi laughed, leaning his arms on Kuroko’s shoulders—not applying enough weight for him to stumble under, but enough where he felt the muscles pull to accommodate it.

 

“Kiyoshi, please get off.”

 

“That Hyuuga doesn’t like me very much, does he?”

 

Kuroko moved to throw another elbow but Kiyoshi slipped back before it could connect, leaving him lighter and less warm.

 

“He’s not fond of new Auxiliaries at first, usually.” And was rarely seen with his own, a timid yet petulant young thing.

 

“Because of his accident, I suppose.”

 

A chill ran down his spine that had nothing to do with the cooler temperatures aboard the ship. “You shouldn’t talk about that.” Kuroko began walking to the dining hall, not hungry but certain he would need the sustenance to survive the day. “What are you even doing, reading personnel files? It’s not needed.”

 

A pair of cadets jogged past, loaded down with tool kits and squabbling back and forth in jargon he recognized from his short stint in Mechanical. Their Auxiliaries trotted after them in silence, although they turned their heads towards Kiyoshi as they passed by. Perhaps he had spoken to with them or perhaps they, like so many others on the _Tenebris,_ recognized that Kiyoshi wasn’t like a normal Auxiliary.

 

Like any of them were _normal._

 

“I figure, the ship, the crew. All of us, we’re a team. Family. If I don’t understand my team, how can I work with them? Support them?”

 

You’re just an Auxiliary, Kuroko wanted to say. Should have said. The words were stuck in his chest, stuttered to a halt in his head. _A team._

 

“You could order me not to read the personnel files,” Kiyoshi pointed out, his voice so kind it was like a poison, one that seeped into you and killed before you even knew it was there. “Lieutenant.”

 

“You shouldn’t talk about the things you read like that,” was all Kuroko could manage. He kept walking steadily to the lift. A soft bubble of laughter popped in his head like a spring breeze as Kiyoshi walked peaceably, quietly, by his side.

 

“Of course, Kuroko.” Pleased that he had escaped an order, maybe. But Kuroko could tell that Kiyoshi would be more careful because he had simply said, not ordered. Because Kiyoshi had called him by name like they were friends instead of a solider and a weapon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“It feels strange, a machine using a machine.” Kiyoshi fired, another target was obliterated. A small _ping_ sounded in the pit. Dead center, full points. Kuroko tongued at his teeth, wondering how long it would take to scrub the acrid scent of the laser charges from them.

 

“No chatter,” Hyuuga said wearily, with only a hint of his normal irritability, keying up another set of targets. A moving set, this time. Kiyoshi barely took aim before firing, one after the other in smooth succession. Kuroko’s chest began to hurt.

 

<Breathe,> a gentle voice urged him in his head even as the repetitive blasts and following _pings_ echoed throughout the room. Dead center.

 

Kuroko watched Kiyoshi systematically destroy every target Hyuuga could call up. Like a machine.

 

<Breathe, Kuroko.>

 

Kuroko breathed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First Officer Hyuuga told them their grade on the spot, hours later, when Kuroko’s shoulders ached and his vision felt like it would never focus properly again. Sweat trickled down his neck, and his leg muscles were sore from running maneuvers again and again until they were burned into him once more.

 

Kiyoshi, perfect on all marks.

 

Kuroko, on par with his previous work.

 

Their teamwork; not perfect, but smooth and agile enough to put back in the field. Hyuuga said that last bit proudly, relaxed enough to almost smile Kiyoshi’s way, to not stare at him so intently with his eyes that always measured, always saw more than they should.

 

He should have been happy, but he just felt nauseous. The _Tenebris_ politely advised a trip to Medical as his stomach roiled and his head pounded, but he ignored it. He didn’t want to return to the field, he wanted to go back to his little planet, to his little station.  Kiyoshi could come too, for all he cared.

 

Kuroko thanked Hyuuga for all his work, and did not think of Ogiwara— _d’ya hear that, Tetsuya? We made it, just like I told you we would—_

He did not think of him— _not like this, I didn’t want us to be together like this, it’s going to kill us both like this, Shigehiro, please—_

 

He did not— _it’s not much harder to kill me if you know where to shoot, Tetsuya, did you know? Cleaner, too. Here, let me show you, I’ve been trying, you know. Tetsuya?_ Ugly, sickly, disembodied laughter dredged up from memory. _Tetsuya, let me show you how—_

He did not think.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The world blurred past the rest of the day. Despite inquiries of concern from Kiyoshi and the _Tenebris_ , Kuroko knew he was better off staying in the fog, as far from the memories that threatened to overwhelm him as possible.

 

Messages filtered in to his adapter—standard notifications about which halls and levels were undergoing maintenance repairs, the weekly wellness clip from Medical, a lieutenant-issued ship-wide  warning to the cadets that whoever mysteriously acquired access to the officer’s liquor stash had best un-acquire it if they knew what was good for them.

 

A note from Kise, too lengthy and lively for him to slog through. a short, brusque voice message from Midorima to _call me, immediately upon receiving this message_ complete with his vocal tic—Kuroko shook his head, shoving them all aside.

 

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that, Lieutenant Izuki?”

 

“The man frowned a little at him, grey eyes sharp. There was black grease smudged on his face and arms and his blue work jumpsuit—Mechanical blue—but his hands were meticulously scrubbed clean.

 

“That Hyuuga isn’t bullying you, is he? Because that’s ridiculous, I can lasso him in for you.” Izuki’s face split with a grin. “Get it? Because a bull—”

 

"He gets it, shut up already, Izuki.” Hyuuga slammed his dinner tray on the table as he took the seat next to him, jostling him with his elbow as he did. “And I’m not a bully, I was testing him with his new Auxiliary. Captain’s orders.”

 

Izuki pouted, but let it slide. He looked instead to Kiyoshi, seated to Kuroko’s left—crowding into his space in a way that would have made Kuroko uncomfortable If he hadn’t already started getting used to his disregard for personal space.

 

“Your scores are the talk of the ship, you know.”

 

“His _scores_ are part of the Lieutenant’s private records,” Hyuuga sniped, and Izuki rolled his eyes.

 

“If you really wanted scores charts from the pit to be ‘private records’,” Izuki made exaggerated quotation marks in the air, “you wouldn’t make the security on them so easy to break into that fresh cadets can hack it. You’re practically _easing_ the way for them.”

 

Hyuuga’s ears were red. “If you know which cadet—”

 

“It’s a rite of passage, calm down, Mister First Officer, sir. Now, whether it’s _right—”_

Kuroko had to hide a smile as the pair bickered loudly over their meal. They barely took note when he excused himself from the table. Instead of taking the lift to his home deck, he went up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The _Tenebris_ was a re-purposed ship, once used for research and scouting missions. Now it was just part of the general fleet, but the research and observatory decks had never been redesigned for anything else. He would have sent Kiyoshi away if he thought the stubborn Auxiliary would go, but he contented himself with staying silent the whole trip to the upper decks.

 

It was empty, cold enough that he felt the chill tingle in his fingertips. Kuroko smiled as the _Tenebris_ unlocked the doors without prompting and slipped inside the main observatory.

 

It was all clear polycarb, the room empty except for an abandoned equipment cabinet by the door. And beyond the translucent walls was _space._ The blacker than black sky that extended forever, the freckling of stars in the distance, the rich red and indigo hues of a nearby nebula spreading like something alive and dancing. It was peaceful, the cold beautiful space before him. Untouched. For as long as he could remember, Kuroko had stared up at his homeworld’s sky and dreamed of standing among the stars.

 

“I remember the first time I saw my planet from space,” Kiyoshi said, his voice soft and dreamy in the darkness of the room. “I felt so small looking out at it all. And it made me feel like I could do anything. Anything I wanted to achieve.”

 

Kuroko remembered looking back to home and feeling strangely alone even though the other cadets were pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with him. He had thought that his home, which seemed so big when he lived on it, looked small from up above.

 

“Where’s your home?” Kuroko asked.

 

“Earth.”

 

Kuroko sucked in a breath, glancing to his Auxiliary. His face was upturned to the stars, skin pale beneath their glare. With the faintest pulsing of light beneath his skin, he looked positively otherworldly.

 

Other than a single old man—the Storyteller, they had all called him—who lived on the small moon that Kuroko had been born and raised on, he had never met anyone who had seen humanity’s homeworld, let alone been born there. He had told fantastical stories about the ocean, about the pure blue skies and the trees. Cities that spiraled high, high into the air.

 

“Is it as beautiful as they say?”

 

“More than.” He smiled easily, eyes lidding. “Maybe I’ll get a chance to see it again someday. Maybe we can see it together.”

 

Kuroko couldn’t help the warm feeling in his chest. “I’d like that.”

 

Kiyoshi looked over, the light catching the gold flecks in his brown eyes. “I’m glad you’re feeling more yourself.”

 

“I was fine.” But it was true Kuroko felt more at ease, like he could breathe again and close his eyes without being tortured by his thoughts and unwanted visions. If he wasn’t so tired, he would challenge Kiyoshi to another basketball game.

 

They took their time getting back to Kuroko’s room, walking side by side. His back still felt unguarded but he was getting used to the company, he thought.

 

Kuroko even took the time to send out a short reply to Kise’s message before putting in the call to Midorima.

 

He answered precisely after the fourth ring and before the fifth, looking faintly flushed but otherwise composed. His taped fingers rose—a reflexive motion from when he wore glasses, refusing eye treatment until the end of his training days at Teiko. They instead rose just high enough to touch the safety goggles hung around his neck and flutter back down.

 

“Do you always return calls this late, Kuroko?” he asked coolly. “I told you to call immediately—”

 

“I’m calling now,” Kuroko interrupted and the other man huffed. Distantly, he heard the humming of machinery and the sound of another voice. He couldn’t make out the words but he knew without a doubt who the voice belonged to. “Sorry for interrupting you and Takao.”

 

Midorima made an undignified noise in his throat and flushed red, and the background voice burst into laughter. Takao’s head popped into view with a wide grin long enough to wave hello before disappearing off-screen.

 

“Are you _quite_ finished?” he hissed in annoyance at them both. Kuroko smiled a little.

 

“What’s this all about, Midorima?”

 

“Your Auxiliary,” he said bluntly, “is dangerous.”

 

So were all Auxiliaries, if they were being honest with each other. Kuroko got the sense that Midorima was referencing specific facts.

 

“Kiyoshi?” Kuroko knew he was skilled with weaponry, knew he could move with the grace of a predator, and that the sound of alarms triggered some kind of warrior mental state. But he also knew that he liked to laugh, that he had an incorrigible sweet tooth. All the same, he switched the call to his internal port instead of the wall. “How so?”

 

Midorima sighed, shifting close to the screen. The green of his eyes was eerie, just a few shades lighter than his hair and thinly ringed throughout with silver from the corrective implants.

 

“You know that my position with Research allows me access to…certain information,” he said, hushed, as if it was a secret. He waited until Kuroko responded impatiently to continue. “When rumor spread that Central Command had called up an old Auxiliary from a century-long storage, I looked into it. Such a thing is unheard of, such old drives are unreliable—” he cut himself off, fingers touching the goggles again.

 

“Most of his records were sealed even to me, but I’ve seen enough to know that this Auxiliary is bad news. A special tactical squad? Like they could fool anyone with such a lie. Kiyoshi Teppei is a government assassin, he and his entire team. The Uncrowned Kings, they called them.”

 

Kuroko felt a cold shock run through him and it was an effort to keep his eyes focused on Midorima and remain on the call.

 

Killing was not commonplace, for all that they were part of a military organization, but neither was it unheard of. And things had been less peaceful a century ago, so perhaps…

 

Something from one of his history lessons sprang to mind.

 

“Midorima,” he said softly, even though he doubted Kiyoshi could hear him. He filtered the call image to his left eye to allow him to view the world through his right. The door was closed. All was quiet. “You don’t think they were responsible for the Emperor?”

 

He looked tired, but he was perfectly alert. His voice was curt when he spoke. “I doubt very much it would have been recorded if they were. But it seems too convenient. The timing of the King’s formation, Central’s rise to power.”

 

If anyone was listening in on the call, they would both be imprisoned for treason against Central Command.

 

“I had Takao secure the line. It’s just us,” Midorima assured him, as if sensing his thought. Of course. Always prepared for any eventuality. But if Takao had done it, there was no safer line in the world.

 

“What do you expect me to do, Midorima? It’s too late to send him back, even if I had the authority.”

 

Kuroko wasn’t sure he _would_ send Kiyoshi back, given the option. Or could, for that matter.

 

“To be careful. To observe.” He hesitated slightly. “And report your missions back to me. Please.”

 

“If you think it will help.”

 

“I may be able to determine the true reasoning of the Auxiliary being brought back after so long.”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Kuroko,” Midorima said, before he could hang up on him. “If something should go wrong—if you should feel you are compromised—use my code.”

 

“It still works?” Midorima had designed special line codes back in Teiko, ones that routed alerts directly between the user and the sender while bypassing the ship AI entirely. It was more than a little illegal to use them, and more than complicated to create—even more so to maintain. They had used them in the field, in secret, and to sneak out of the dormitories. Well, that had mostly been Aomine.

 

“Takao and I have made improvements,” he said with an edge of pride in his voice for his longtime companion and fellow Researcher. After getting Kuroko’s promise that he would use the code if necessary, the call finally ended.

 

_They called us kings._

 

Kuroko had the sickening thought that the incident that cost Kiyoshi his leg and his human life may not have been the unfortunate accident he made it out to be. A team of Auxiliaries was easier to order around than a team of humans, after all. Easier to bind to silence.

 

Kuroko filed those facts away, in tightly closed boxes. It was a waste of energy to wonder.

 

There was a message from the captain in the morning, after a sleepless night passed him by.

 

Their first mission as a team.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The cadet team he was leading was brimming with energy. They treated Kuroko with respect and curiosity, but it was obvious that it was Kiyoshi who was the one who held their interest.

 

Kiyoshi refused to move far from Kuroko’s side never going much farther than five meters in any direction before he came trotting back. He, too, had an abundance of energy, but more focused, not as jittery as the young group. He remarked happily, once, through their shared adapter that he was pleased with how his leg was working, but otherwise held his peace.

 

“The drop-off point is just beyond the ridge,” Kuroko announced as they made the approach. “We are not in hostile territory, but stay alert and watch for the signal for the base team’s approach.”

A chorus of ‘yes, sir’ greeted him. Kuroko checked his weaponry by rote—the gun hanging from his shoulders, the smaller one at his hip, the flares in his thigh holster. Make sure the supply delivery makes it to the Research base team on the planet, then get out. The local predatory fauna was known to attack humans unpredictably.

 

“A warm up,” Captain Riko had stated, “before I set you to real work.”

 

<You’ve been tense all morning. Relax.>

 

<I’m fine,> he thought back curtly. Kiyoshi’s voice was more gentle than he wanted it to be. Soothing.

 

<Relax,> he repeated, softer. Kuroko breathed in, exhaled slowly. They crossed the ridge in loose formation, keeping a watch for unfriendly beasts and the Research team’s approach alike.

 

The exchange went smoothly. Typical of Research, the team was more interested in the supplies they carried than the people delivering them. Kuroko felt more at ease without the delivery weighing his team down. They would make good time back to the shuttle, which was guarded by two cadets and their accompanying Auxiliaries.

 

He alerted them that they would be on their way soon, and once he received confirmation that all was still well—their voices not hiding boredom nor the disappointment at being left behind—he led them from the ravine.

 

“The mission’s not over until we’re back aboard the _Tenebris,_ ” he reminded them. “Don’t lose focus, is that clear?”

 

“Yes, Lieutenant,” came the more cheerful chorus.

 

Kiyoshi was somewhere off to his left, hanging in his peripherals. Kuroko turned his head to get a full view of the team, doing a head count out of habit. Standard procedure. Nobody gets left behind on the away team, was the rule. Although there was always the unspoken addendum, _as long as they can keep up._ Kuroko didn’t think it was likely to lose anyone on a trip that was only meant to take a matter of hours, but accidents could happen. He had an unbidden thought of Midorima and lost count.

 

Even as he restarted the count while the team walked, he felt a tension rise up his spine. Had it been this quiet on the way to the drop-off?

 

Kiyoshi was right next to him, somehow, just slightly in front of him.

 

“Cadet Furihata, where is your Auxiliary?” Kiyoshi asked, perfectly calm, perfectly cold.

 

The cadent jumped at being addressed, hands clutching at his gun.

 

“I don’t…he was just here?” He looked around. They were missing just one. The other cadets looked around nervously too, their Auxiliaries standing impassive and blank-faced as ever. “I’ll contact him—”

 

His eyes went wide a moment later, the color draining from his face.

 

“Gone,” he said in a terrified thread of a voice. “He’s gone—”

 

“We all see he’s _gone_ , Furihata,” one of the others said snidely. “It’s the _where_ we’re asking about.”

 

“N-No, you don’t—I don’t—”

 

He saw it before he heard it.

 

A great beast that towered over their heads, scaly grey-green skin that blended in with the surrounding plant-life. From some quiet, distant place, Kuroko noted the blood on its talons, the wires caught in his sharp, bared teeth.

 

It screamed. Pain.

 

Kuroko realized he had fired.

 

“Hold steady!” Kiyoshi yelled as the cadets milled in terror, scrambling to arm their guns. “You, aim for the eyes! The rest of you, vitals!”

 

The ground shook as it charged; most of the cadets scattered to either side but Furihata was frozen, petrified like a mouse hypnotized by a snake about to strike. _I will not lose one more person._ Kuroko ran, firing off a wild shot towards the sensitive eyes, yelling for Furihata to _move_ —he wasn’t sure what he said, but then it didn’t matter—

 

Kuroko collided into him, a rolling tackle that left a burning pain all across his back, but he was alive, and Furihata was crying, but he was alive too.

 

Kuroko spun awkwardly to his knees prepared to fight, gun raised—heart pounding, ears ringing—but it was all but over.

 

Kiyoshi stood before the great, howling monster firing again and again. The air was heavy with the stink of burned flesh and lightning. The other Auxiliaries were there fanned out behind him and shooting mechanically.

 

One was missing an arm, blood and some unidentifiable fluid leaking from it slowly, the muscles torn ragged and hanging in strips—Kuroko looked away only to have his gaze fall to one of the ground, a huge chunk torn from their chest, but still holding their gun, still fighting even though they had died, been brought cruelly back only to die again—the hole was sparking with light from their wirings, and there was blood, so much blood—

 

Furihata was still crying. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I’m so sorry—”

 

The beast fell. The ground shook once more and all was painfully still.

 

“Team, to me,” Kuroko called when he could catch his breath, barely able to hear himself over the singing of his own blood in his veins. The cadets came forward in a ragged bunch, staring at him with terrified faces. All alive. That was good.

 

“Help the wounded. Find the lost Auxiliary if you can. The mission’s not over until we’re back on the _Tenebris._ ” He took another breath. He could see Kiyoshi, kneeling beside the wounded Auxiliaries. “You did well. Now let’s make sure we all make it back home.”

 

They saluted, looking steadier, and went to assist, calling out names and vanishing in pairs into the underbrush. Furihata touched his arm lightly, and when Kuroko looked over to him, his expression was still a grim mask of fear.

 

“Are you injured?” Kuroko asked.

  
“N-No, Lieutenant, but your back—”

 

“I’m fine. Go look for your Auxiliary. He needs to come back home too.” Furihata’s eyes brimmed with tears again but he nodded, scrambling to his feet and stumbling off. Kuroko stood. Pain lanced up his back. Maybe he had twisted it when he rolled. He walked slowly to the wounded. A group of Researchers, glad in their gunmetal grey jumpsuits came barreling into the clearing, carrying med kits, and a few armed with giants guns that put the ones they carried to shame.

 

If they had sent warning about what _exactly_ stalked these woods, maybe they would have brought heavy artillery too.

 

It was too late now.

 

One approached him, opening their kit despite his attempts to tell them that he was fine, to see to the others, if someone could help the Auxiliaries, they were the ones who were hurt—

 

“If I don’t close up your back, you’re going to keep losing blood, Lieutenant.”

 

“My back is—”

 

Large hands. Warm, familiar. Kiyoshi—where had he come from?—gently coerced him into turning his back. Kuroko blinked at his broad chest as the Researcher tore the back of his uniform more to access the damage. When the cold stitching salve hit the wound, Kuroko saw black.

 

 

 

 

When he opened his eyes, Kiyoshi was holding him upright, jaw clenched, and the pain in his back had subsided to a dull throb.

 

The Research team offered an escort to their shuttle that he declined. It was a quiet walk; the cadets not helping the wounded walk were tense, on high alert with weapons out and hunted eyes scanning the lush undergrowth.

 

Kiyoshi stuck close to Kuroko. Monitoring his vitals, no doubt, waiting for him to collapse. With the long gash on his back—shallow, the Research who patched him up had reported, but messy—closed up, there was no danger of him passing out from blood loss. If he could stay on his feet, he was fine. It ached though, beneath the skin.

 

If not for Kiyoshi taking control, leading the AI soldiers when it seemed that they might stand waiting for orders from their human companions, he wondered if they would have gotten off so lucky.

 

“Lieutenant?” Furihata’s voice trembled. He carried the mangled corpse of his Auxiliary companion in his arms, despite the other cadets’ attempts to take it from him. What he could find of him, anyway. _The salvageable parts._ Kuroko kept his face smooth of expression even though his stomach twisted.

 

“What is it, cadet?”

 

“You could have let it kill me. Y-You should have—”

 

“Don’t blame yourself for what happened, cadet. You all performed to the best of your abilities under the circumstances.” Though he meant the words, Kuroko doubted it would mean much to Furihata in the state he was in—it wasn’t enough to outweigh the horror of the bloodshed he had just witnessed. The horror of the reality of a starship officer’s life he carried in his arms. “We sustained a minimum of casualties.”

 

That last sentence burned raw in his throat. The whole team was listening, looking towards him every so often. Really looking at him, not looking through or just past him. It was a heavy weight.

 

“Why save me. You could have…”

 

Kuroko exhaled slowly, felt Kiyoshi’s arm brush his. And when he spoke, he wasn’t at all surprised to hear the mild voice that said the words with him

 

“Nobody touches my team.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Kindling

The dead Auxiliary was sent to be recycled. The others were escorted by their pale-faced officers to Mechanical.

 

First fix the wires—the expensive bits. Then fix the humans parts. The expendable ones.

 

“You should go to Medical,” Kiyoshi tried to convince him, but Kuroko ignored the words and gently restraining touch.

 

“I have a report to make.”

 

He took the brief moment in his rooms to change uniforms, exchanging black for black, then sent the alert to the captain that the mission was complete and he would be submitting the report shortly.

 

Kuroko had written hundreds of reports, enough to the point where he could type on autopilot from a cold distance from what had happened. One fatality. Three wounded. The form asked him to differentiate between human and robot. A _loss_ instead of a death. A temporary _inconvenience_ instead of a tragedy. He would be scrapped for parts, instead of being remade anew.

 

Kiyoshi stood beside him, hovering for a while, then eventually sat on the edge of the bed. His head was bowed, hands hanging loose between his knees.

 

Kuroko’s head hurt by the time he filed the report. After a moment’s hesitation, he copied the main parts of the report and sent it to Midorima, not that he thought it would be helpful. It wasn’t even a real mission. A warm-up. All he wanted was to sleep or scream or both.

 

<Tenebris, can you please locate Cadet Furihata?>

 

It replied back almost instantaneously. _She._ Kiyoshi always called the _Tenebris_ she, didn’t he? But the ship was purely machine.  <Cadet Furihata is currently on deck 32, Lieutenant. Shall I alert him for you?>

 

<No need, I’m going to him. Thank you.>

 

Kiyoshi stood with him, shifting his broad body partially into his path.

 

“Where are you going?” he asked, a dangerous light in his eyes. Kuroko resisted the strong temptation to push by him and instead waited.

 

“Medical.” It was the truth. Before the _useful_ parts of the fallen Auxiliary could be recycled, the flesh had to be cleaned away, and that fell to the Medical team to complete. Rather than relax and let him pass, Kiyoshi frowned.

 

“Your condition is acceptable. And you refused just a short while ago.”

 

_It’s not_ my _condition I’m worried about._

 

“Do you intend to impede me?” he asked coolly.

 

“Not if you’re telling the truth.”

 

Kuroko nodded stiffly and Kiyoshi finally moved aside. The Auxiliary was at his back out the door though. He considered, briefly, of ordering him to stay behind, but Kuroko had the feeling even a direct order wouldn’t do much good.

 

And however loathe Kuroko was to admit, he found Kiyoshi’s presence a comfort.

 

He shouldn’t. He was a killer, if what Midorima said had any truth to it. And he had seen him in battle now, fearless, cold. A machine, he had to remind himself; a machine patched up with a human mind. Or perhaps a human patched up with a machine’s inclinations.

 

When Kuroko walked straight past the main bay doors—he politely asked _Tenebris_ to forward the health reports of the other Auxiliaries to him—Kiyoshi grabbed his arm.

 

“You don’t have to see him,” he said urgently. “I can go instead—”

 

“I was the team leader on the mission, _Auxiliary_ Kiyoshi. This is my responsibility.” His fingers tightened, almost to the point of pain, his face unreadable.

 

“You can’t take away his pain,” Kiyoshi said. The bay doors slid open and a few white-suited Medical officers came out, going the opposite direction down the hall. <You of all people should know that.>

 

<I can make sure he doesn’t face it alone.> Kuroko did not let his thoughts stray, even though the old memories were there. Because they were so close, he could see the slight widening of Kiyoshi’s deep brown eyes.

 

“You were alone?” he whispered, horrified. Kuroko pushed at his hand until he let reluctantly go but he continued to stand well into his personal space.

 

“No. Either way, this isn’t about me. Maybe you should wait out here.”

 

“No.” Kiyoshi flashed a tired, sad smile. _Why do you smile so much_ , Kuroko wanted to ask. _When you have such a half-life, why smile at all?_ “I go where you go, Kuroko. We’re connected, you and I.”

 

Kuroko didn’t have a response to that. They walked through the doors side by side. 

 

The smell hit him before anything else. Blood, oil, the faint edge of rot unable to be fully concealed even beneath the overpowering aroma of bleach. It was an effort not to gag, no matter how many times he smelled it.

 

The whole room was abandoned but for the one worktable. Just one Medical officer in stained whites, Furihata standing in his bloodied uniform. Izuki would be there soon, to collect the parts.

 

“Cadet Furihata,” he said quietly when they were within range. Furihata flinched at the sound of his voice and lifted puffy, red-rimmed eyes to meet his gaze.

 

“Lieutenant,” he said, voice faint, before looking back to the Medical officer efficiently tearing apart what was left of his Auxiliary.

 

“Tried telling him he didn’t have to stay for this, Lieutenant,” the officer said casually, pausing to wipe at his forehead with his wrist. His gloved hands were dark and slick—Kuroko carefully looked past him. “We all know you’re always coming down to send off the old wrecks, but I didn’t think you were training up protégés for that.”

 

He laughed at his own words, oblivious to the fact that Kiyoshi was there—or more likely, not caring how callous he sounded. Kuroko did not acknowledge him, and the officer returned to his work with a roll of his eyes.

 

“I couldn’t leave him,” Furihata whispered. “I know—I know he was just an Auxiliary, not really alive, but…there’s no one else but me, you know? If I’m not here, then he’s alone. A-and he was already alone when…”

 

“I know.” The discarded flesh would be burned without ceremony, without anyone there to honor the memory of what they had been, without anyone to feel relief that maybe, maybe they could rest in peace at last.

 

“Are you here to tell me to quit, sir?” There was something resigned in the stiff line of his shoulders. “People have told me that before. That I should just quit. That I’m not cut out for it.” Furihata lifted his chin higher, but his eyes never moved from what had once been his Auxiliary. “Maybe they’re right.”

 

“People used to tell me the same thing. I never let it stop me. Neither should you. You’re a good officer, Furihata.”

 

“But I—I let him _die_ , Lieutenant. I didn’t even know he had wandered off and then—and then he just _died._ All alone.” His lower lip trembled.

 

“People die all the time,” Kuroko replied, repeating words that had been said to him time and time again. “Sometimes we can do something to stop it, sometimes we can’t. You’ll learn to tell the difference.”

 

Furihata nodded, clearly unconvinced but not so defeated looking. Kiyoshi reached out to touch the young man’s shoulder, the length of his arm pressed lightly against Kuroko’s freshly healed back. The faint sting of it was grounding, the warmth of his body soothing.

 

“This time you couldn’t do anything. Next time will be different.”

 

Kuroko heard the doors slide open behind them. That would be Izuki arriving for the parts, early.

 

“Have you chosen your path yet, cadet?”

 

“No, sir. We have until year’s end to choose.”

 

“I would consider Mechanical. It takes good eyes. A careful mind.” And it was peaceful. Rarely did they get sent on away missions. He would be safe there.

 

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

 

<You’ll take him?> he projected to Izuki. His Auxiliary stood at quiet attention behind him, outwardly unperturbed by the scene before them.

 

<Of course.>

 

_Nobody touches my team._

 

Kuroko watched Izuki throw a companionable arm over Furihata’s thin shoulders, already talking like he knew him, shooting Kuroko a conspiratorial wink.

 

<Nobody,> Kiyoshi agreed.

 

He didn’t stay for the cremation. Furihata would be in good hands with Izuki, who was well-used to taking on traumatized young cadets and turning them into capable officers once more. Izuki would treat him with the care he needed, the care that a cadet in the general sector of the Starfleet military would not be afforded.

 

Kuroko looked back at them one last time before the doors closed behind them.

 

Three instead of four. Furihata would have a new Auxiliary by tomorrow.

 

No need to grieve that which has already died.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re awfully quiet.”

 

Kuroko could have screamed. He could have thrown the dataplate he was currently reading at Kiyoshi’s stupid, smiling face. Instead he kept his eyes fixed on the words on the screen and stayed peacefully seated behind his tiny desk.

 

“One usually is when one is preparing for bed,” he said, as dull as he could manage.

 

Kiyoshi laughed, unperturbed, and moved from the doorway where he had been leaning.

 

“Preparing for bed means one usually gets _in_ bed at some point.” Kuroko’s eyes were burning from staring at the screen, unblinking. He wasn’t even certain which sentence he had been on. Kiyoshi crouched beside him, placing his head nearly level with the desk. It had what was probably the intended effect of making his gently smiling face impossible to ignore. “It’s been hours, Kuroko. And don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t sleep last night, because I did. You and I, we’re—”

 

Kuroko set the dataplate down with a thump, cutting him off.

 

“What is it you want?”

 

Kiyoshi looked away for a few moments. He idly reached up and pushed the hair off his forehead for a moment, messy brown strands that were just slightly too long.

 

“Do you really send off the dead Auxiliaries? When they get recycled?”

 

_Were you really one of the assassins who killed the Emperor,_ he almost retaliated, but he didn’t think he was ready for an answer to that. “I’ve been planet-side for years, but before then, yes.”

 

“It’s kind of you,” he said in a hushed voice that felt too intimate for the dim lighting of his room, the lateness of the hour, the after-hours civilian clothes Kuroko had changed into.

 

“It’s the right thing to do,” he said eventually. Kiyoshi smiled, leaning to the side so he bumped into Kuroko’s leg, his prosthetic creaking a bit as he did.

 

“You’ll send me off too, right? I think I’d be lonely, otherwise.”

 

Kuroko’s chest went uncomfortably tight. “Don’t talk like that,” he ordered. He’d be damned if he watched another of his Auxiliaries die before their time like that. In fact, he was all but convinced it would a career-ender. For as badly as Kiyoshi’s vibrancy hurt to be around with Ogiwara’s memory still heavy on his soul, Kuroko wasn’t certain he could live with a modern Auxiliary—one who didn’t laugh at his bedhead or offer up small-talk when the quiet was too much, who wouldn’t know how to play basketball or recognize how beautiful and terrifying it was to look out on the vastness and majesty of space—

 

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

 

“I mean it.”

 

“So do I. I’m sorry.”

 

Kuroko half-expected Kiyoshi to lay his head on his leg. He was only half-certain he would hit him for it.

 

But Kiyoshi instead stood in a smooth and sudden motion, moving away from him towards the door.

 

“Let’s go play a game.”

 

“It’s after-hours,” Kuroko responded automatically. The ship never slept; there was a team working every shift on six-hour rotations, but it was discouraged to be out and about the decks during the late shifts if you weren’t working.

 

“Going to report me, sir?” he asked cheekily. Kuroko’s lips threatened to pull up into a smile, looking over at him, even though Kiyoshi’s expression was pained and Kuroko’s eyes burned.

 

_Did you kill the Emperor?_

_Who were you ordered to kill next?_

Kuroko got to his feet.

 

“Not tonight.”

 

They slipped out the door together. It felt a bit like being back at Teiko sneaking out of the dorms—only instead of Aomine leading the way, Kise and Ogiwara pressed to his back as they all fought not to laugh even though if anything got them caught, it would be Midorima and Takao’s bickering—

 

Instead it was Kiyoshi’s lone warmth at his side. Kuroko felt nostalgic, but he didn’t feel lonely for them, for once.

 

The smell of the court was always the same, even in a simulation. Sweat, the rubber of the ball. And the sounds were as soothing as listening to the beat of his grandmother’s heart when he was little; his shoes squeaked, the hollow ring of the ball as it struck the floor, the more chaotic pattering of their feet, the faint sound that his skin made against the basketball. The purely satisfying sound of the ball when it went through the hoop, nothing but net.

 

They played as a team, tonight, dancing around an invisible opposing team, running back and forth across the court in simple speed drills Kuroko remembered dreading but somehow felt exhilarating now. Sometimes he would fall back to catch his breath, but he kept his eyes always on Kiyoshi as he moved, light on his feet for someone so large, the ball almost small in his grasp.

 

He sank shot after shot with a grace Kuroko would have envied if it wasn’t so beautiful to watch.

 

For all that Kuroko would have played through the night, he didn’t have the stamina. The second time Kuroko stumbled on the court, sending the ball on a wild course, Kiyoshi declared that they had had enough for one day. His legs were tight, trembling as he forced them through the cool-down stretches he only did because he knew he would hate himself later if he skipped them now. He felt oddly light-headed, like someone had scooped out his thoughts and tossed them to the winds.

 

“I can carry you back,” Kiyoshi offered. Genuinely, he thought, as Kuroko struggled back onto his feet.

 

“I’m a Lieutenant. I don’t need you to carry me, Kiyoshi.”

 

“Sure about that? You may hold higher rank, but I’ve got a few decades on you.”

 

It wasn’t the age that presented a problem, and he knew it. Kuroko wiped the sweat from his forehead and marched sedately from the room.

 

There was no telling how old, precisely, Auxiliaries were. They all started at one, the day they were remade, and then were counted a year older on the same day as every single active Auxiliary.

 

“Do you remember your birthday?” Kuroko asked, bold with lack of sleep and adrenaline. And it was _Kiyoshi._ He hummed low in his throat.

 

“The summer. June, I think. I can’t recall the day.”

 

They passed a last shift officer who did a double-take at them walking together, sweaty and out of uniform. Kuroko threw an easy salute that she returned with wide eyes before scurrying off. It was two months until June going by the Earth calendar, not that it really mattered.

 

Finally they were back at their rooms. He didn’t want to think about what time it was, even less what time he had to be awake at in the morning, considering it already _was_ morning. Kiyoshi leaned against the wall while Kuroko dug around for another set of clothes for himself. He was taking deep, even breaths, his entire body relaxed but still seeming ready to spring alive at any moment. His hand rubbed idly at the seam of his prosthetic leg, where metal met flesh.

 

“Do you even need to breathe?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“To…” To live wouldn’t be the right phrase, but everything else felt insensitive. “To function? Do you need to breathe?”

 

Kiyoshi thought about that for a moment, brows furrowing slightly. “To some extent, yes. I can go longer without than you can. I know I’m not alive by Central Command’s standards but…” He glanced down at his leg. “I’m not exactly dead either, am I? We Auxiliaries are somewhere in between.”

 

There was something hard about his eyes even though his body remained loose and relaxed. An apology didn’t feel appropriate, although Kuroko did feel guilty for asking now.

 

“You seem very much alive to me.”

 

Kiyoshi let out a breath. _Ah_. He had stopped breathing the moment Kuroko asked about it. “That’s kind of you to say, Kuroko.”

 

“It was rude of me to ask,” he clarified for him. The other man shrugged.

 

“You didn’t mean it that way. I can tell. Either way, I don’t offend easily.” After some time, his smile came back and his hand fell on Kuroko’s head, ruffling his hair before Kuroko could wearily smack the touch away. “You owe _me_ a question now, Kuroko.”

 

“I can’t imagine there’d be many to ask about me when apparently you’ve read all my files.”

 

“Files are files,” he waved the very thought away with a grand gesture. “You can only trust words to tell the truth so far. People never lie, in the end.”

 

“People lie all the time.”

 

“With their words, maybe, but I can see it elsewhere. Their hands, their eyes, their lips.” Kiyoshi’s gaze landed, heavy, on each of the spots he named. “The human heart doesn’t lie, you know, Kuroko. It’s just a matter of learning to listen to a heart instead of a voice.”

 

Kuroko rolled his eyes expansively, trying to disguise his discomfort. “And am I a liar, Kiyoshi?”

 

“A very good one.”

 

“And you?”

 

“An even better one.”

 

Did he still have a human heart to betray him, though? Kuroko thought so, but Kiyoshi was a challenge to read, even now. Kuroko liked to think he understood him, at least a little.

 

“Are you going to ask?”

 

“Ah.” Kiyoshi blinked in surprise, scratching the back of his neck in a sheepish movement. “That’s right. I forgot my question!”

 

Kuroko cleared his throat slightly and stood, clothes in hand. “I’m going to shower, unless you want it first.”

 

He declined. The shower did little to wake him up or banish recent bad memories, but he felt clean beneath the spray of recycled water and the heat building in the tiny room soothed his muscles.

 

“Next time will be different,” he whispered to the room.

 

Kuroko’s back didn’t even twinge as he said it. He believed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nigou, when he had first come across him, was a small black and white ball of fluff. Abandoned on the street corner—hungry but otherwise healthy. He had looked at Kuroko with two pairs of soft blue eyes that did not fear, did not hate, did not expect anything. The idea of such a small, innocent thing dying alone because he had no family was more horrible to contemplate than Kuroko’s own recent assignment to the backwater planet.

 

He didn’t stay small, and Kuroko stopped thinking of the planet as a prison.

 

“What kind of dog is he? I haven’t seen one since I left Earth!”

 

Kiyoshi would not be left behind even for this trip. Kuroko couldn’t find it within him to be angry—or even uneasy, even though what he discussed with Midorima was never far from his mind.

 

“I’m not sure,” he replied truthfully, thinking also that the dogs on Earth were unlikely to be the same as the ones elsewhere. The trip to the loading dock had never taken less time, and before he entered the door he could hear Nigou’s booming rumble of a bark.

 

“For god’s sake—would you hold that damn thing still!”

 

“He’s too big—”

 

“Don’t just _let go_ —”

 

Kuroko entered quickly and was almost immediately knocked flat, instead falling back against Kiyoshi’s chest by the weight of Nigou jumping up, his paws resting heavy on his shoulders.

 

Kuroko couldn’t hold back the small bubble of laughter that burst out of him at Nigou’s very enthusiastic greeting; the dog woofed softly in his face, licking him a few times.

 

“Good boy,” he praised. “Did you miss me?”

 

The dock crew came trotting up, eyeing Nigou warily.

 

“If we could have your print, Lieutenant…”

 

Kuroko pressed his thumb against the hesitantly proffered screen. “I’m sorry if Nigou misbehaved. He can be a handful sometimes.”

 

“Well, he only started acting up a few minutes ago. Maybe he smelled you coming,” one worker shrugged, but still kept a careful distance between them. He set a large case down, presumably the supplies sent for Nigou. The other was looking at him oddly, eyes flicking between him and Kiyoshi.

 

Kiyoshi, whom he was still leaning against; who had caught him with an easy arm around his middle and a stabilizing hand at his waist.

 

Kuroko clicked his tongue at Nigou and the dog jumped down. Kiyoshi subtly pushed him straight on his feet, hands lingering long enough for Kuroko’s ears to burn red. He had been so distracted he hadn’t paid him much heed.

 

“If you’ll excuse us, Lieutenant, we have to be getting back.”

 

“Of course. Thank you for your work.” His voice was perfectly steady despite his hammering heart.

 

Kiyoshi stepped out from behind him, holding out one giant hand to be sniffed. Nigou did so delicately, and rewarded Kiyoshi with a slobbering kiss that made him laugh.

 

“I guess you really are a dog, aren’t you! Never seen one quite like you. What a good boy.” He scratched him behind his ears while Nigou panted happily, soft tongue lolling out from his double sets of teeth. “You’re certain he’s a dog? Really?”

 

“He’s not an Earth dog, but yes. He’s the equivalent of a dog on the planet I was assigned to.” The animal did an excited wriggle with his whole body until Kuroko joined Kiyoshi in petting him, burying his fingers in the familiar thickness of his fur.

 

“You have your father’s eyes,” Kiyoshi said playfully and Nigou woofed softly in his face, tail wagging in wide, slow sweeps, both sets of big blue eyes gazing at him with the adoration all dogs had for anyone who would pet them.

 

Kuroko hid a smile behind his hand as he stood. Tired as he was, with Nigou here, it felt like he had family with him.

 

“We should go.”

 

Even with the extra stares they gathered walking through the halls, Kuroko found that he didn’t mind. Kiyoshi stuck to his left, Nigou padded obediently at his right, his head high enough that Kuroko could rest his hand on top of it comfortably.

 

“He’s well-behaved,” Kiyoshi remarked.

 

“He wasn’t always.” Nigou sneezed, as if in disagreement, and Kuroko let his fingers trail through his fur. “But he’s very smart.”

 

A thought occurred to him.

 

“Mind his teeth, Kiyoshi.”

 

“His teeth?”

 

“His bite’s poisonous.”

 

The expression of aghast surprise on his face was comical. “But he’s a dog!”

 

“He’s Nigou,” he said proudly, and the dog wagged his tail in agreement. “Either way, he only bites if you make him mad, so it’s not something to worry about. I just thought you should know, since he’ll be living with us now.”

 

Wasn’t that a strange phrase to say, like the room they shared was home. It was in a way, but it hadn’t felt like that before.

 

They left Nigou in Kuroko’s room while they headed to breakfast—he immediately jumped on the bed and sprawled across it. Kuroko sighed, thinking of the fur that would be left everywhere, but didn’t have the heart to tell him to get off, and the rich warmth of Kiyoshi’s laugh was nice too.

 

Izuki stood and waved them over, even though the dining hall was mostly empty but for the stragglers this late in the morning. Furihata was small beside him, pale-faced but straight-shouldered, and he saluted Kuroko formally with a fire burning in his eyes.

 

“Good morning, Lieutenant.”

 

“Good morning, cadet,” he replied gently, keeping his eyes carefully trained on him and not the new Auxiliary seated next to him. “How are you feeling?”

 

“I’m…” his hands trembled a little; he glanced quickly at his new companion and then away again, to his nearly untouched tray of food. “I’m fine, Lieutenant, thank you.”

 

“More than fine! I’d wager by the end of the week, I’ve got you in Mechanical blue for life, cadet.”

 

Furihata smiled weakly, murmuring something none of them could catch but had the sound of a platitude. He picked up his chopsticks, at least, and started eating. Luckily, Izuki seemed happy enough to chatter away with Kiyoshi, covering Furihata’s exhausted reticence and Kuroko’s own quiet mood.

 

<He’s going to be okay, Kuroko. I promise I’ll look out for him.>

 

<I know you will. Thank you.>

 

<You’ve got quite the group of admirers, by the way,> Izuki grinned through a mouthful of rice, jerking his chin towards the table behind them. <Best take care of them before we get _mired_ down. >

 

Kuroko had a good idea of what would be waiting for him when he turned around, but it was still something of a surprise to see the rest of the cadets from the away mission sitting there, shooting their table the occasional nervous glance.

 

Kuroko moved to stand but was stopped by one of Kiyoshi’s hands pressing down on his thigh to keep him in place.

 

It was overly familiar, surely—why did he have to _touch_ him all the time? Kuroko’s thoughts came to a stuttering halt, but by then Kiyoshi had removed his hand and was spinning around in his seat to face them with a wide grin.

 

“Good morning, cadets!” he called out jovially. “Why don’t you come and sit with us? There’s room enough for everyone here.”

 

They looked like a group of spooked cats, shoulders drawn up to their ears, eyes wide and wary, but eventually the four of them shuffled over with their trays and Auxiliaries in tow, hesitantly perching the seats nearest to Kuroko and Kiyoshi. There was some readjusting as the Auxiliaries moved down the table so the humans could be seated next to each other.

 

Kiyoshi stayed put.

 

Kuroko was embarrassingly glad of it.

 

“Good morning, Lieutenant Kuroko. Good morning, Lieutenant Izuki,” they all said, and then there was a quieter, “Hey, Furihata.”

 

“You’re all looking well,” Kuroko said, uncertain what they wanted. “I trust yesterday’s events won’t stop you from continuing your work.”

 

A subdued chorus of ‘no, sir’ went around the table. Furihata looked closed to tears and Izuki was studiously ignoring them, busy with his breakfast tray.

 

“W-We have a request, Lieutenant, sir,” one of them said, a bit shaky but his head held high. Fukuda Hiroshi.

 

“And what’s that?”

 

“We would—that is, if you have the time, sir, we would like to train with you. You and your Auxiliary.” His dark eyes flicked between them, and the next thing Kuroko knew, the cadets were all awkwardly bowed over in their seats towards him. “Please, sir.”

 

“You should have all been assigned to a mentor officer upon your activated residency on the _Tenebris,_ ” Kuroko pointed out, sliding subtly away from them until he bumped into Kiyoshi. They weren’t looking at him, but he could feel the weight of their expectations. _Heavy._ As much of an honor it was to have them look up to him as a superior officer, the responsibility felt too much, too soon.

 

“Please, sir. It has to be you.”

 

<They trust you, Kuroko.> Kiyoshi’s voice was a whisper in his ear, proud, and a reminder that he wasn’t alone.

 

<They shouldn’t.> That mission had the taste of failure in his mouth, lonely ashes and the sharp tang of blood.

 

<You promised to bring them back home, and you did. It’s reason enough, I’d say.>

 

Kuroko could understand why, he just didn’t know how to accept such a heavy and misguided burden. He was no better than any other lieutenant on the ship. Not for the first time since coming back aboard, words failed him.

 

“Come now, Kuroko, what could be the harm?” Izuki said peaceably. “There are no rules against it…not that it looks like they would be stopped by that, from the looks of those faces.”

 

They blanched a little at his comment about rules, stumbling over each other to assure them that they were law-abiding people. Izuki laughed.

 

“It’s good, it’s good! It’s nice to see such determination.” Izuki squeezed Furihata’s shoulder with parental fondness. “You should work together and grow stronger. It’s good to have teammates you can rely on.”

 

“You’ll do it, sir?” Fukuda asked, a bit anxious, his expression brighter than before.

 

Kuroko inhaled slowly, exhaled slower, and turned a small smile of his own to the expectant faces of the cadets, imagining he could draw strength from the solid weight of Kiyoshi behind him.

 

“I will. It will be extra training,” he reminded them, struggling to talk loud enough over the sudden cheer that broke out. They high-fived each other, touching Furihata more delicately than anyone else. It was both touching and heart-breaking to see the camaraderie born of violence. “One word of any of you slacking off in your normal duties, and the deal’s off. Understood?”

 

“Yes, Lieutenant, sir!”

 

<I hope your kids like basketball,> Kiyoshi laughed in his head as Kuroko turned back to his breakfast, half-listening to new conversations bursting into life around the table.

 

<They’re not kids,> he said. But they were young. Kuroko studied Furihata surreptitiously, pleased to note the trace of an unsteady smile on his face as the others dragged him into their talking. Oh, so very young.

 

And now they were his.

 

“Now, if any of you other cadets are also interested in the Mechanical route, I can show you the _mechanics_ of it all—”

 

It was going to be fine. Kuroko pressed his wrist against the table, feeling the bracelet beneath his uniform sleeve bite into his skin.

 

He could do this. He could.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not a one of the cadets knew how to play, but were more than eager to learn once Kuroko explained that the teamwork they built in the game translated smoothly into combat. If you couldn’t rely on someone to make the block, to take the shot, to get you the pass, to rebound if you missed, you couldn’t rely on them to guard your back in battle.

 

None of them seemed all that eager to have a gun back in their hands anyway, when Kawahara timidly asked if they would be running a combat sim.

 

Even if not for the difference in uniforms—though the cadets shed their jackets at the door—it was easy to tell the difference between human and Auxiliary. The cadets were clumsy, loud, running through their drills with determination; they groaned each time they fumbled the ball, cheered each pass that connected, each of the handful of shots that did more than thud uselessly against the backboard.

 

The Auxiliaries were as graceful on the court as they were passionless. It pained him to watch them play, but lacking their prior personality or not, they were a part of the team too.

 

<Lieutenant Kuroko, First Officer Hyuuga is about to enter the training room,> the _Tenebris_ spoke into his ear. Kuroko tensed but didn’t let the worry filter to his face, calling out to the others to keep at it and walking briskly to the sidelines. Kiyoshi followed.

 

“You can stay with them,” Kuroko pointed out, a touch irritably.

 

“My place is with you, Kuroko. Besides, looks like they can handle themselves for now.”

 

In another world, maybe Kuroko would have told him off, told him he could handle it himself. In this one, Kuroko didn’t say anything, instead of resting a hand on top of Nigou’s head once he reached the sidelines and waiting for Hyuuga to appear. He kept his back to the door. It would be rude to be seen waiting impatiently.

 

“You’ll be happy to know I convinced the Captain to stay in her office instead of coming down here to ‘supervise’ your illicit training hours,” a familiar, dry voice said from behind him. Kuroko only didn’t tense because he was expecting it and he carefully turned to face the First Officer.

 

“Respectfully, First Officer, there’s nothing in the rules about—”

 

“I’m aware of the rules, Lieutenant. At ease.” He quirked his lips in a quick smile before his single eye scanned over the room, his face settling back into its usual mildly cranky expression. There was a patch over one eye that Kuroko very pointedly did not look at. “Took it out for some mods to be done,” Hyuuga answered the question he didn’t ask with a casually defensive air.

 

“I see,” Kuroko murmured politely. “If I might ask, sir, how did you know about this?”

 

“Word travels fast. You’d think Tenebris was crewed by a bunch of old-timers from how much gossip flies in this place. Captain about had a fit when she found out, so I distracted her with…the mods.” By his sides, his hands twitched before he slid them into his pockets, stance relaxing.

 

“I appreciate that, sir.”

 

He shook his head. “Don’t thank me. I’ve been wanting the work done anyway. The cadets need to relieve stress somehow, and she only would have made them more anxious, coming down here and taking control. She’s a good coach, but she’d be too much for them to handle right now.”

 

“Lieutenant Kuroko has a gentle touch, sir,” Kiyoshi interjected, smiling wide when Hyuuga focused his single glaring eye on him. Kuroko aimed a subtle kick at his shin that he nimbly avoided. “He’s good with kids.”

 

“They’re soldiers, Auxiliary, and I’d thank you to treat them like that.” The words didn’t have any heat behind them though. He hesitated before speaking again, his ears faintly tinged with red. “I’d wager the Lieutenant will handle them just fine.”

 

The First Officer was leaning forward slightly. Keeping himself from walking on the court, Kuroko realized belatedly.

 

“Would you care to play a game, First Officer?” Kiyoshi asked, nothing but polite.

 

<Kiyoshi, please don’t rile him up—>

 

<It’s fine, I’ve got this!>

 

“ _Excuse_ me, Auxiliary?”

 

“Ah, my apologies sir, it would be unfair. You’re exactly right. I’m sure your depth perception isn’t at its best right now. Another time, then.” He blinked slowly, his innocently wide. “Oh, or is it perhaps that you don’t play basketball?”

 

Hyuuga’s jaw clenched in irritation—but the fire in his expression wasn’t the anger Kuroko expected, but instead the blaze of competitive spirit.

 

“Get me a damn ball, Lieutenant,” he said shortly, stripping out of his uniform jacket and tossing it aside. “I’m going to teach your companion here a lesson in respecting his superior officers.”

 

Kiyoshi laughed, sounding positively delighted. _Manipulative jerk._ “I look forward to it, First Officer.”

 

“Sir,” Kuroko began hesitantly, and it was an effort not to step back with Hyuuga faced him down. Nigou nudged him with his snout, steadying him.

 

“Right away, sir,” he murmured blandly instead.

 

He ignored Kiyoshi’s wink.

 

The longer the two played against each other, the more the cadets spent their time watching their one-on-one game than focusing on themselves, until they were all gathered by Kuroko on the sidelines. It wasn’t clear who was cheering for whom, since a loud, joyous shout would go up each time either of them scored or blocked the other.

 

Kuroko couldn’t hear what they were saying to each other, but Kiyoshi’s laugh floated light and easy to his ears, and Hyuuga’s voice carried the tone of an irritated scolding. It was fascinating to watch them play, but Kuroko’s eyes were mostly for Kiyoshi—he was all but certain he had been holding back during their one-on-one, from the level of skill Kiyoshi played with now. It bothered him a little, but mostly Kuroko was happy to have the chance to watch him play again and have an excuse to observe him in motion.

 

Nigou had flopped over on his back while Furihata rubbed his belly.

 

“Sir,” he said, softly, barely audible over the noise the others were making. Kuroko knelt under the guise of petting Nigou.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Just…thank you.” He bit his lip, head bowed. “For everything.”

 

“You don’t have to thank me,” Kuroko told him.

 

“I do. You and him. Your Auxiliary.” They both looked towards him on the court, reflexively. “He’s…really different from the others. We all knew he would be, but it’s like—” the rest of his sentence was swallowed by the raucous cheering as Kiyoshi scored the final shot of the game. But even had Kuroko not seen his lips move, it wasn’t hard to guess the words. _It’s like he’s human._

 

It was an easy thing to forget. And a painful thing to remember.

 

“He’s from a different time,” he eventually replied.

 

“Kuroko!” Kiyoshi called out to him as he walked over, smiling broadly. Most everyone was too distracted to notice the lack of title, but Kuroko felt Hyuuga’s single eye boring into him. “Were you watching?”

 

“It was a good game,” he complimented them both.

 

“A good victory for you, you mean,” the First Officer said, a touch sour, but he looked more relaxed than usual—something quickly ruined when Kiyoshi threw a casual arm around his shoulder.

 

“We were just having fun, Hyuuga, some fun!”

 

Everyone did notice, this time, an uncertain hush falling in the room. _Kiyoshi, you fool._

 

The First Officer snorted, shoving his arm away.

 

“We’ll have a rematch next time, _Kiyoshi._ Don’t get cocky.”

 

The tension left as rapidly as it had appeared, even with the line between Hyuuga’s brows. Kuroko very honestly could not tell if he was being genuine or just trying to avoid making a scene in front of the cadets. Kiyoshi laughed and agreed easily, a strange glimmer in his eyes.

 

_Ah,_ Kuroko realized. _So that’s the victory you were really aiming for._

<Let’s call it a night, shall we?>

 

<Yes, I think you’ve caused enough damage for one night,> Kuroko replied dryly.

 

<I thought I did well, Kuroko!>

 

He had to focus so he didn’t smile, but Kiyoshi probably could tell.

 

“Thank you for joining us, First Officer,” Kuroko said with a slight bow, ignoring his far too cheerful companion. “I’m sure the cadets learned a lot from watching you play.”

 

Given the less than subtle cue, they all thanked him and Kuroko—and Kiyoshi.

 

So easy to forget.

 

_C’mon, Tetsuya, where’s that smile? I’m just the same as before, don’t look so sad. Tetsuya—_

 

_Breathe, Kuroko—_

 

Nigou leaned his fuzzy weight against him, and Kuroko let out a breath he didn’t remember holding. Kiyoshi looked towards him, his smile curiously sad, but it was fine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was Takao who called, a scant hour after he exited the shower that night. Kuroko had waved Kiyoshi’s concerned face away when the call came through, taking it on his internal port and trying not to look at the trails of water droplets clinging to his scarred skin when Kiyoshi exited the bathroom with only a towel wrapped snugly around his hips.

 

Takao looked ragged, typing away at something even as he greeted Kuroko.

 

“Where’s Midorima?”

 

“Shin-chan’s sleeping,” he replied with a tight smile. Something about his expression told Kuroko that it probably wasn’t a natural sleep, but one induced by medication. He had never seemed to rest when he had something worrying at him.

 

“Something’s wrong?” Kuroko asked.

 

“You could say that. Your report? The attack?” Takao stopped typing and focused on him. “Well, not so much the attack. It’s about the Auxiliary, the one who ended up dead. I need you to clarify something for me.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Surely you meant that the cadet _and_ the Auxiliary got separated from the main group.”

 

“No, it was just the Auxiliary.”

 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, frowning. “That’s not possible.”

 

“It happened just as I wrote it in my report, Takao.”

 

“Auxiliaries don’t just wander off, that doesn’t happen. It’s not within the parameters of their programming. Unless otherwise ordered, they stay within a certain distance of their officer. Ten meters maximum. But your report placed this Auxiliary at…” he struck a few keys, glancing over a document briefly, “…over 15 meters away from the group when he perished.”

 

“Well, it _did_ happen. Exactly as I wrote.”

 

The other man’s head bowed briefly, black hair falling into his face. His hands shifted into view, knuckles popping as he stretched his fingers wide. “Then the only way it happened was an overriding order from Command. All Auxiliaries are hooked up to their mainframe, one way or another.”

 

Kuroko rubbed at his temples, giving up on maintaining a façade of perfectly undisturbed calm. “That doesn’t make sense, Takao,” he sighed.

 

Takao snorted with dark humor. “Tell me something I don’t know. Shin-chan and I have been trying to work it out with no luck, all day. One thing’s for sure though, Kuroko, if it was their fault—and I’d put money down that it is—Command is going to want to keep this strictly hush-hush. It would have been better for you if you ‘forgot’ to submit that report officially.”

 

“That’s against the law,” he muttered and was treated to an archly raised eyebrow that said _oh, please, that is_ not _this worst you’ve ever done._ “And in any case, even if it was an order from Command, no one else knows.”

 

“All it takes is one person pointing out the obvious fact that Auxilaries aren’t the sort of creatures to wander off. Like I just did.”

 

Kuroko felt sick. He couldn’t help wondering if the attack would even have happened if the Auxiliary had maintained formation with the rest of them.

 

“Even without the report, I have an entire team as witness to it.”

 

Takao stared at him for a few moments, sharp grey eyes softened with pity. “You might not have them for long.”

 

Kuroko almost scoffed, almost was readily willing to dismiss what he said as paranoia. The next generation of officers was seen as a precious commodity, something to be protected, not destroyed for seeing something they shouldn’t have, even if it was incriminating for Central Command.

 

“They wouldn’t,” he insisted, not certain he believed what he said.

 

“Kuroko, you’ve gone through your life having faith in your government. You have faith in Command. But I’ve been on the other side of things, okay? And frankly, I’d be surprised if they didn’t have plans to take them out of the picture already. I’m not taking about a vacation here, Kuroko, I’m talking about something with a lot more _permanence._ ”

 

The other side of the law, he meant. Kuroko did his best to keep breathing. Takao’s morals might not be the most pristine, but he wasn’t a liar.

 

“I can’t let that happen,” he bit out, nails digging painfully into his palms.

 

“I don’t know that you have much of a choice, Kuroko.”

 

“You don’t understand, Takao. Respectfully, I will not let such a thing happen to them.”

 

He looked at him in surprise, and then Takao’s face melted into a hard-edged smile. “All right then, Phantom, message received loud and clear. I’ll work on it. Be ready when I call again.”

 

“I’ll be ready.”

 

“Shin-chan and I will look into the Auxiliaries, see if there isn’t something we can turn up, but it would be worth questioning your new friend. In the meantime, stay safe. Keep an eye on your kids.”

 

They weren’t his, and they weren’t kids, not really. Kuroko didn’t dispute it, telling him—and Midorima—to stay safe as well.

 

The call disconnected. Kuroko was only dimly aware that he was shaking, sweat sliding down his spine. For once, _Tenebris_ wasn’t needling at him to visit Medical, something he was thankful for.

 

<Kiyoshi, I need a favor.>

 

<Name it.>

 

<I need you to track the whereabouts of the cadets who went on the away mission. At all times. Can you do that?>

 

There was silence. Kiyoshi opened the door between their rooms and stared over at him with no expression, arms folded loosely over his chest. Kuroko stared back, hoping the fear and desperation he felt wasn’t too visible.

 

<It’s come to that, has it.> He didn’t sound surprised. <Consider it done, Kuroko.>

 

<Thank you, Kiyoshi.>

 

<Would you do something for me?>

 

<Yes.> Kuroko felt no hesitation in responding and it frightened him, just a little.

 

<Please trust me. I’ll protect them the same as I protect you—with my life.>

 

_Thank you_ felt too paltry a response for such a declaration, but there was nothing else to say. The distance between them felt entirely too far and unnatural. Kiyoshi was always crowding near, always by his side. Always there.

 

<I trust you,> Kuroko promised. He reached out to Nigou, sleeping next to him on the bed, curling his fingers through his thick fur, and he made a soft rumble in his throat before settling down again.

 

“Do you really?” Kiyoshi asked, his voice hushed and mild, sweet as the maple candies he convinced the ship AI to try making. He hesitated before walking forward until he was within an arm’s length, staring down at him, face unreadable.

 

“I trust you to keep them safe.”

 

He let out a mirthless laugh, more air than noise.

 

“Nobody touches our team.”

 

“That’s right.”

 

Something ached, deep in his chest. Kiyoshi ruffled his hair, and he half-heartedly pushed his hand away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three days slowly ticked by, observing and waiting for Takao to call. More cadets mysteriously trickled into his extra training sessions, and even some officers dropped by the room, usually under the guise of a delivering a message. And yet, they always seemed to have time to stay.

 

Hyuuga had his rematch with Kiyoshi—with both eyes this time. It was a hard-earned tied game that ended again with Kiyoshi laughing and Hyuuga looking ready to punch holes through walls and promising a  _next time._

 

If keeping a constant observation on their team was tiring him, Kiyoshi gave no indication, but he was sharper than usual. He stared too hard, stood too close. Or maybe he had always been that way, and Kuroko was just starting to really notice.

 

“For someone who seems to have so many moral objections, you sure picked a career that goes against your fundamental beliefs.”

 

Kuroko startled from his half-sleep to find Kiyoshi sitting next to his bed.

 

“Creep,” he hissed before he could stop himself, but Kiyoshi just laughed, looking at him with soft brown eyes that were far too near for comfort.

 

“I couldn’t sleep, sorry, Kuroko. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

If he hadn’t meant to wake him, he wouldn’t have been there, but Kuroko didn’t think it was worth bringing up. He sighed, flipping over on his back so he didn’t have to look directly at him.

 

“I was following Ogiwara,” he admitted after several long minutes. The confession burned its way up his throat, and with the words in the air, he felt empty. The bracelet on his wrist was heavy, the only thing anchoring him down to the world.

 

“Your old Auxiliary.”

 

“My friend,” he corrected. “He was my friend.”

 

Kiyoshi rested an arm on the bed, leaning his head on it. “But you could have left, after he passed.”

 

“They turned him into an Auxiliary, I couldn’t just leave—”

 

“Becoming an Auxiliary isn’t dying, Kuroko. It’s not the _same_ as life, but it’s not death. I meant his final passing.”

 

“Do you feel alive?” Kuroko challenged, unshed tears tight under his eyelids.

 

“Some days more than others,” he returned quietly. They were quiet for a while after that, Nigou snoring softly, Kiyoshi nearby. Kuroko rolled again, turning his back on the man pointedly.

 

“Why didn’t you leave?”

 

“I’m trying to sleep, Kiyoshi.”

 

“For being such an exemplary liar, Kuroko, you’re not doing a good job of convincing me of that.” A warm touch brushed gently against his spine, there and gone again before Kuroko could protest it. “You still owe me a question from before, remember?”

 

There were any number of things he could have said. Any number of answers. It should have been easy, so easy, to open his mouth and let one of the pretty answers he handed out fall out. The words all fluttered weakly in his chest; he cleared his throat, opened his mouth, closed it again.

 

Because it was the right thing to do. Because he wanted to honor Ogiwara’s memory. Because he had already started down the path and there was no reason not to finish it. Because all his friends were there, even if they were far away. Because he enjoyed his work as a starship officer.

 

“I don’t know,” he said. His voice was small in the room, small and distant. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

 

Kiyoshi touched him again, his palm pressed to his back.

 

“Your kids are all safe,” he said softly, instead of addressing the fragile, honest answer Kuroko  had given him. “All abed. You should sleep, too.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If Kuroko dreamed, he did not remember, because he awoke to the sound of Nigou barking—once, sharply, an alarm.

 

He was standing over him so that Kuroko could hardly sit up a few centimeters.

 

“What is it, boy?” he mumbled groggily, blinking into the darkness of his room.

 

Kiyoshi. He was standing a meter away, shirtless again, staring vacantly with backlit eyes, eerie blue-green filtering through the white sclera and the pitch of the pupils. Lights flashed, dim, spasmodically beneath his skin, dancing along the lines of his scars.

 

Kuroko grabbed onto Nigou’s ruff, both for comfort and to hold him back from leaping at Kiyoshi. He could hear shouting in the halls now, just short of panic.

 

“Kiyoshi?” he asked, fear thick in his throat.

 

A horrible crackling noise emitted from him and Kuroko’s free hand started to creep towards the small handgun he kept near him when he slept.

 

<Tenebris, please tell me the situation.>

 

Nothing but silence. Where he could usually feel her in his mind, there was nothing but emptiness. The gun was cold in his grasp, humming lightly against his skin in recognition before going still and deadly. Nigou was now giving off a warning rumble, claws digging into the bed.

 

<Tenebris, please respond,> he tried again, jaw clenched as he took aim. Midorima had warned him, his own instincts had warned him that his new Auxiliary was dangerous but he hadn’t listened.

 

He hadn’t wanted to listen. Kuroko adjusted his aim.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of a long update this time around, because it's been a while and I had a lot I wanted to fit in this chapter before diving into the next one. Thanks for reading!


	4. Aberration

The room stank of electricity and half-melted plastic and metal. Cloying, heavy. Kuroko felt like he was gasping for air even as he took aim again—this time, right between the eyes, a clean shot. If he faltered now—

 

“Kuroko,” Kiyoshi’s voice creaked out. He looked down at his still smoking leg, the ruined kneecap, the thin trickle of dark fluid Kuroko still prayed wasn’t blood even though he should have been aiming to kill— _let me show you how, Tetsuya, it’s easy—_

“Kuroko, please.” Kiyoshi lifted one of his hands towards him and Kuroko fired reflexively to the left of his head, leaving a crater in the door between their rooms.

 

“Don’t move,” he grated out, giving up on the _Tenebris_ at last _._ At his side, Nigou had fallen quiet, bristling protectively and all eyes on the Auxiliary. “I’ll shoot. Don’t.”

 

“I’m not going to hurt you. I would never…I’ll never hurt you. Please.” The light in his eyes remained but the ones beneath his skin stopped flashing so sickeningly. “Don’t you trust me?” he asked, heartbreakingly soft, a smile shattering the blank mask across his face.

 

He was _his_ Kiyoshi again, it seemed.

 

Kuroko kept the gun steady.

 

“What’s going on? What happened?”

 

“She can’t hear you. Tenebris, she can’t.” His voice was thin and strained as he leaned his weight to his right side. Kiyoshi shook his head, as though trying to dislodge something. Kuroko kept the gun steady. “Someone made her sleep. Someone tried to make us all sleep.”

 

“Us?”

 

“Me and the Auxiliaries. But they couldn’t take me.”

 

“Kiyoshi, what’s going on?” he asked again flatly. Afraid. He could hear the fear despite his effort to keep it from his voice. “Who is…do you know who’s doing this? Is it Central Command?”

 

Pounding footsteps from outside, more shouts. Kuroko’s knees felt like they might give out on him so he locked them in place. He swallowed back a yell with difficulty when the red emergency lights flashed on and a blaring alarm sounded. Once, twice, three times. The ship was relying on backup power without the _Tenebris_ to keep everything running smoothly, which meant they were all but stuck motionless, defenseless in space with little more than life-supporting functions operational.

 

Kiyoshi’s eyes focused on him, still eerie with light. Perhaps he was not as much _his_ Kiyoshi as he should be. “It doesn’t matter who, I’ll protect us.”

 

He took a few limping steps with his bad leg dragging behind him, closing the distance between them. The gun hit him in the chest before Kuroko could lower it—not even certain if he should—but he didn’t seem to notice, gripping tight to his arms and leaning his head down. His breath rushed over his face, sweet-smelling and warm.

 

“Kiyoshi, let go—”

 

Nigou was growling, but he was looking to the door, not to Kiyoshi. He had deemed the Auxiliary as safe again, it seemed, but Kuroko wasn’t convinced, not with his eyes like that, not when the ship was a sitting target for anyone who wanted to take a shot.

 

_And I know for a fact that Central Command is after some of us._

 

“You can’t go out there. It’s not safe. Stay with me, you’ll be safe with me.” His lips twitched up briefly. “Stay with me,” he repeated, as though he liked the sound of it, the taste of the words. It sent shivers down Kuroko’s spine.

 

With a loud scrape of static, the overhead comms came on, a tightly controlled voice speaking. Kuroko didn’t recognize who, only the desperate edge to it, the sound of the engines humming in the background.

 

“There are five Auxiliaries gone rogue, if you see them do not engage, I repeat do not—” the voice faded into gunfire, static, and finally silence. Kiyoshi leaned his weight heavily on him to keep it off his now useless leg. Nigou barked once, trotting to the door and standing in front of it like a sentry.

 

“Don’t go out there,” Kiyoshi rasped out, just short of an order.

 

“As a Lieutenant, it’s my duty—”

 

“Don’t preach duty to me, Kuroko. I can’t go with you, so you have to stay.” He held on even tighter, Kuroko could feel his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. “Please. Please stay. I can’t keep you safe if you don’t stay.”

 

_I very nearly killed you, you can’t possibly mean to protect me. And how should I protect myself from you?_

“I can keep myself safe.”

 

“Kuroko—”

 

“Let go or I’ll shoot you.” _Again._ Then, quieter, less sharp, “You’re hurting me.”

 

Kiyoshi’s fingers loosened almost immediately, guilt crossing his face. Then he let go completely, awkwardly hobbling around him and sitting on Kuroko’s rumpled bed, touching the still smoking, bleeding edges of his wound gingerly.

 

“I’m sorry,” Kuroko couldn’t help saying. Sorry for shooting, for aiming, for missing, for even thinking about shooting again. No matter what happened, no matter who he became, he would always be _his_ Kiyoshi. He could look clean through the hole that had been his kneecap, and it made his stomach twist even though he had seen worse, far worse. This was his fault though, his doing. And if he had been more collected in that moment, Kuroko probably would have shot him elsewhere. Somewhere the damage would have been permanent.

 

“Don’t be. You helped bring me back.”

 

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

 

“It doesn’t hurt at all.”

 

 _Liar._ Kuroko could see the pain on his face, see the careful way he pulled his fingers away to trace to seam of his leg, like he was considering removing the prosthetic altogether. _Liar, liar._

 

Kuroko steeled himself, throwing on his uniform jacket over his clothes and looping on his belt, holstering his gun. As he was shoving his feet into his boots, Kiyoshi spoke again, pleading.

 

“Please stay, Kuroko.”

 

Sucking in a breath, Kuroko tamped his feet down to settle them in the boots. Kuroko swallowed all the half-formed words he was thinking down. “Don’t say such selfish things,” was what he said instead.

 

There was another loud shiver of static, then Captain Riko’s voice came over the overhead comm.

 

“This is your captain speaking. By now you’re aware that Tenebris’ AI is nonresponsive and your Auxiliaries have been incapacitated. That’s all we know of the situation so far. These are my orders; I need all ranked officers in the halls. Make your way to the bridge. If you see any moving Auxiliaries, shoot first, ask later. All others, stay in your quarters.” She paused briefly. “I need you all to stay calm. I don’t know who did this, but I promise you, I’ll find them. Lieutenants, Commanders, to me! Comm, over.”

 

Kiyoshi’s eyes closed, their unnatural light shut off behind his eyelids, and tilted his head back as if in supplication to the heavens. What good that would do when they lived in the heavens, Kuroko wasn’t certain. Maybe no good at all. Maybe that was the price for living among the stars, the gods’ realm. He remembered something he said as a child, one of the few times his grandmother had been truly angry with him.

 

 _If there are such things as gods, they do not live_ here.

 

Kuroko moved to the door, rubbing at Nigou’s ears before nudging him out of the way.

 

“I need you to keep an eye on our cadets, if you can, Kiyoshi.”

 

“Of course.” His voice was hollow. “I can. I will.”

 

“I have to go.”

 

“I know.” He looked pained, suddenly, opening his eyes and looking somewhere past Kuroko’s head. “I can’t keep up like this.”

 

“I know.”

 

Kuroko considered the defeat in the slump of his shoulders, feeling like he stood at the edge of _something,_ a precipice over which he could see nothing but the dizzying unknown.

 

“I’ll come back.” The words tumbled from his lips before he could swallow them back to continue fluttering uselessly in his belly. “I promise.”

 

He didn’t—couldn’t—wait for Kiyoshi’s response, not certain he could bear to see him smile, so he slid the door open, with difficulty when the auto mechanism jammed, and stepped into the hall. Nigou was at his heels. It would be pointless to tell the beast to stay.

 

The hall was empty when he looked left, but as he turned right, he saw the familiar back of Mitobe. Kuroko slammed his hand against the wall he was closest to, three times in quick succession. Feeling the vibrations, Mitobe turned, gun still partially raised until he caught sight of Kuroko.

 

He nodded in greeting when Kuroko and Nigou caught up.

 

“Where’s Auxiliary Koganei?” Kuroko asked, though he already knew.

 

Mitobe made a quick series of signs that, out of practice, took a good while for Kuroko to translate as they walked at a steady pace down the hall in the direction of the lifts.

 

_“He suddenly collapsed. Like he was asleep but he wouldn’t wake up.”_

Mitobe signed again.

 

“ _Where’s Kiyoshi?”_ He had been one of the many regulars showing up at Kuroko’s informal training sessions to play, so he had become familiar enough to call him ‘Kiyoshi’ instead of merely asking about Kuroko’s Auxiliary. It took Kuroko a moment to translate again, on account of Mitobe using a nickname; the first part of Kiyoshi’s name followed by the sign for laughter.

 

An apt nickname. Kuroko did not think about his ruined leg, nor the sound of gunfire, nor the way he had begged him to stay.

 

“The same,” he lied. They came to a halt. The door leading inside the ship, to the cramped emergency tunnels full of ladders that usually only Mechanical made use of had been forced open already, dented and full of scratches. Nigou whined, ears flat to his skull.

 

They glanced at each other. Mitobe shrugged, tilting his head towards the lift a few meters down the hall with a questioning look. Kuroko nodded in understanding, drawing his gun and moving carefully towards the door while Mitobe went to see if the lift was working.

 

The inside of the tunnel was strangely dark, not even the emergency lights operational. Kuroko leaned forward, planting one foot on the edge of the entrance and squinting into the darkness for any sign of life or one of the rogue Auxiliaries. Nothing.

 

Hopefully the lifts were working and they wouldn’t have to venture into that dark.

 

Nigou growled and Kuroko glanced over his shoulder at him worriedly. Even as he turned, Kuroko felt the grasping of too-strong hands on his legs. Moving on reflex, Kuroko kicked blindly, falling and twisting awkwardly back with his gun raised.

 

Anger. Anger and lights.

 

The Auxiliary’s face was contorted in a feral snarl, his hands bloody and eyes burning with the same unnatural blue light as Kiyoshi’s had. That was all he had time to see before Kuroko fired the shot, right between those eyes. Blood, everywhere, soft bits of brain matter and skin, sharper bits of bone and metal. The dead weight of the body dragged him abruptly forward, partially into the darkness of the tunnel—the gun slipped out of his grasp—but no, there were more lights, another face, another Auxiliary using the body of her fallen comrade to climb towards him—

 

Nigou grabbed Kuroko’s arm in his mouth and jerked him back—he felt his shoulder pop, felt the teeth that dug into his skin through his uniform—he hit his head on the door, seeing bright, dizzying sparks. He grabbed Nigou with his free arm and helped to haul himself forward. His gun, where had his gun fallen? If he didn’t have that he was dead—

 

He saw the flash of Mitobe running towards him. Too late, he thought frantically, the weight of the Auxiliaries, one dead, one very alive and terribly furious, pulling painfully at his body—

 

“Lieutenant, get down!”

 

He flattened himself instinctively against the deck, dragging Nigou with him, and something whistled over their heads before exploding in a violent burst of light and crackling electric static that made his implants give off a whining feedback in his head.

 

The weight was gone. The stench of blood and oil, the smell of burned plastic and death, was in the air.

 

“Did we get them? Can you see?”

 

“Who cares, check the Lieutenant, he’s not moving!”

 

Mitobe reached him first, touching his shoulder briefly before ducking his head into the tunnel, gun raised. His mouth was set in a thin line.

 

“I’m fine,” Kuroko said faintly, but there were hands hauling him up and Nigou was scrambling to his feet, pressing against his legs for support. Kuroko blinked in surprise at the one who looped his arm over his shoulder to hold him up.

 

“Furihata,” he said. “What are you doing?”

 

“We came looking for you, sir.” There was something wild in his eyes, but he was focused. Kuroko took a better look at his surroundings; other than Furihata, Fukuda and Kawahara were there, armed with their guns and more nasty looking charge grenades.

 

“For me,” Kuroko repeated.

 

Mitobe retreated from the tunnel, giving them the all-clear sign. Two down. That left three more roaming the ship. Kuroko shivered, recalling the fury he had seen.

 

“You’re disobeying the captain’s orders by being in the halls,” Kuroko said belatedly, even though he was grateful for Furihata holding him up and the well-timed rescue.

 

“W-We were already in the halls when the announcement came, sir!” Fukuda said, an obvious lie. “So we thought…we should find you before anything else.”

 

“You should follow the captain’s orders before anything else,” Kuroko corrected gently. Where had they even gotten those charge grenades from? Mitobe was signing again, the cadets looking on in awe; sign language was a required course for all those entering the Starfleet, but it was rarely used outside the classroom setting. And they were familiar with Mitobe, but they were more familiar with Koganei, his chatterbox Auxiliary that spoke he spoke through, more often than not.

 

_“The lift is locked, but I can hack the control panel, maybe.”_

“That’s what we’ll do then. Cadets,” he began and they flinched in unison, holding onto their weapons with sullen gazes. “I appreciate what you did here, but please understand I can’t have you coming along.”

 

“But sir—”

 

“No arguments.” Furihata shivered next to him but when Kuroko glanced over his jaw was stubbornly set. “I need you to do something for me.”

 

They seemed to perk up at that. Kuroko glanced at Mitobe, feeling a twinge of guilt, but the big man was scanning the hall for any more signs of people or otherwise.

 

“Kiyoshi—Auxiliary Kiyoshi is awake. He’s injured.”

 

“He’s not—”

 

“He isn’t rogue, no. I promise. But he needs your help more than I do.”

 

“But your head’s bleeding, sir,” Kuwahara said. _Ah._ Now that he said it, Kuroko could feel the wet warmth on his face.

 

“It looks worse than it is,” Kuroko decided. Then he added, “Please. You’re the only ones I can entrust him to.”

 

That was that. They saluted, pride and fear warring in their eyes, and Furihata finally let him loose. Kuroko was glad Nigou was on his other side so he didn’t stumble at the loss of support. He waited until they were out of sight to follow Mitobe towards the lift.

 

If Mitobe had read his lips and knew he had lied about Kiyoshi, he made no comment or other indication of it. Kuroko would have been grateful, but his head was pounding as fast as his heart, the absence of adrenaline making him feel a lot like a wrung-out towel.

 

They managed to work out the lift panel to get it moving again, although it made a terrible screeching as it moved along, the brakes not fully disengaged. Mitobe half-smiled at the face Kuroko was making at the noise.

 

When the doors opened, they were greeted with guns leveled with their faces.

 

“Stand down, it’s just the Lieutenants,” the First Officer snapped out and the guns were lowered. Adrenaline was rushing anew through Kuroko’s bloodstream, but Mitobe seemed stolid as ever as the stepped out of the lift, his hands already flashing through signs faster than Kuroko could hope to follow. Hyuuga nodded, signing back nearly as fast.

 

“How’s the head, Lieutenant Kuroko?” One of the officers pushed out from the back med kit in hand.  
  
“It looks worse than it is.”

 

She scoffed. “You haven’t even seen yourself, have you? Hold still.” Dutifully, Kuroko did as she asked as she inspected and cleaned the wound, and applied a dermal patch. He answered her rapid-fired questions—are you dizzy, nauseous, seeing double—while the other officers traded information back and forth. With the addition of Mitobe, there were just as many hands signing as there were voices speaking.

 

“It has to be some kind of malfunction on Command’s mainframe,” one said. “I bet there are other ships down like ours.”

 

“That doesn’t’ explain why the ship AI got hit too,” another argued. “That’s an independently functioning system. I mean, it _connects_ to Command but if there was a problem, the AI would have automatically disconnected and continued operating.”

 

“So what, you think it’s a terrorist act against Command? One of those radical huma-life only groups?”

 

“A huma-life group wouldn’t go after something that’s pure AI—”

 

“They’ve been getting more aggressive, you can’t say that for sure, right?”

 

“Hey, cut the chatter,” Hyuuga snapped out, speaking and signing at the same time with a glare. “The only thing that matters right now meeting up with the captain like she asked. Is everyone—”

 

A loud shriek of agonizingly high-pitched feedback echoed in Kuroko’s head and he couldn’t hold back a gasp of pain. From the way the other officers grabbed at their heads and cringed, they heard it too. Mitobe frowned slightly, raising his gun to alert position and his eyes going distant in that familiar way Kuroko recognized as reading text across his port.

 

By the time the feedback faded, he could barely hear the voices speaking through the implants, tinny, like it was a hijacked line. Still at his side, Nigou whined softly in concern.

 

<L-Lieutenant, the distance is too much, you’re going to burn out their implants or worse—>

 

<Relax, I boosted the signal. Testing, testing! Does anybody copy?>

 

<Lieutenant Izuki,> Hyuuga ground out, <you have ten seconds to explain yourself.>

 

<Well, what do you know, it worked after all! First Officer, sir, excellent! I wasn’t sure who I might catch with this, I had to rig something up to reach anyone at all, the overhead comms are blown. We took down one rogue down here, no casualties, but a lot of injuries, to the crew and Tenebris. All of mechanical’s in the clear, we’re working on trying to get more systems back online.>

 

<We got two rogues on our end. Anything else to report?>

 

<Only that I’m happy we have such a good _rapport_ —>

 

<Get the hell off the line, Lieutenant!>

 

With a cheery goodbye, Izuki was gone, leaving Kuroko’s head ringing.

 

At least there were only two to go.

 

The First Officer visibly inhaled and exhaled to the count of ten.

 

“Is everyone ready to move?”

 

The group fell into formation easily. Kuroko took up the rear guard, and even with Nigou trotting just behind him, without anyone at his back or his Auxiliary companion, he felt exposed.

 

He felt alone.

 

They found the captain and a handful of other officers flanking her not long after.

 

What they didn’t find was any more information than they had.

 

Riko’s hands moved just as gracefully as Mitobe’s or Hyuuga’s as she spoke.

 

“There’s only two left. They may be working together, they may not. I’m just as much in the dark as you are.” She chewed on her lower lip for a moment, casting her gaze around the group.

 

“We’re splitting up. First Officer, I know you said Lieutenant Izuki reported an all-clear, but we can’t be certain. He’ll be needing help fixing the damage and trying to get more of our systems back into shape. As it stands, we make a pretty good target for anyone who wants to take a shot. Not that I think it’s likely, but it never hurts to be careful.”

 

“Captain, if you say you don’t think it’s likely, then you must have some idea of who’s behind this,” one of the officers spoke up. “Is it a huma-life group—”

 

Riko exhaled through her nose, cracking her neck with a loud, liquid crunch that made all of them cringe. “Like I said,” she said mildly, eyes flashing with the promise of violence, “I don’t know who did this or _how_ they did it, but we’re going to make them regret it.”

 

With that said she started rattling off names and directing them to head down to Mechanical, warning them to stay alert for any sign of hostiles. Kuroko rested his palm on his gun for a moment. A tiny part of him wished he had been able to stay with Kiyoshi. Or maybe that he just hadn’t shot him, so he could have come along.

 

Neither of those things were a viable possibility. Kuroko boxed that part up tightly and mentally shoved it over a cliff.

 

Nigou licked his hand and Kuroko moved it from the weapon to rest on top of his head.

 

“Standard formation, let’s move. We’ll rendezvous at the bridge. Has there been any more word from the engine room?”

 

“Not since Lieutenant Izuki report taking down one rogue, captain,” one of the older officers replied. She clicked her tongue.

 

“No news is good news, I suppose. All right, stick to your team, let’s go!”

 

They dispersed, stalking the halls like wolves on the hunt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was eerily quiet.

 

“This is a waste of time, captain,” one of the commanders voiced wearily. “Those rogues could be anywhere on the ship. We should—”

 

“We should what, commander? Start following _your_ orders?”

 

“That’s…I only mean that as the captain, your priority should be—”

 

“As the _captain_ , I don’t recall asking for your opinion.”

 

Hyuuga lifted his hand to halt the group, pointing to the left as silence fell. Further up the corridor was a fork that led right and left; the main fork. Left meant the bridge.

 

There was a rogue on the bridge.

 

Whoever had set this in motion certainly wasn’t wasting any time.

 

Weapons raised, tired blood singing with adrenaline, the group moved in sync, moving with the intent to hunt, to catch, to kill. At first, Kuroko did not see anyone on the bridge at all.

 

Then he saw the body.

 

An Auxiliary. There was no mistaking it because the chest gaped wide open, metal and organs and wires exposed to the air, sparking weakly with fading life.

 

“Don’t shoot,” Riko hissed, holding out her hand to wait—what for, Kuroko couldn’t fathom, but then he saw the small Auxiliary, half-hidden by the consoles from their vantage point. He turned his head towards them and moved calmly into view, none of the anger Kuroko had seen on the others faces. Unlike the others, his eyes did not hold any light at all.

 

His right hand was a bloody ruin, all bone and metal and leaving a dripping trail of black and red. Kuroko didn’t claim to remember each and every Auxiliary on the ship, but he had seen this one before, had seen him following dutifully after his human counterpart in the hall, dressed in Mechanical blue.

 

“Auxiliary, stand down,” Riko ordered, and he halted, not far from the body of the other. Kuroko tried not to focus on how the hole in his chest was the perfect size for a single, ruined hand to fit. “What are you doing on the bridge? Report.”

 

“Orders,” he said simply.

 

The other group of officers had finished circling around the other way and took up stances behind them.

 

“Where is your officer?”

 

The Auxiliary’s head tilted to the side curiously. “Orders,” he repeated.

 

“Whose orders, Auxiliary?”

 

He did not answer.

 

The Auxiliary went abruptly rigid, eyes glowing like violent beacons of light; steam rose from his skin. His jaw wrenched open as though someone had pried it open and he began to speak with a terrible crackling, the muscles of his throat visibly straining.

 

“Well played, captain,” the voice creaked out, completely unrecognizable and distorted, the disturbing sound of snapping accompanying the words.

 

“Who are you, and what the hell have you done with my ship?” she snapped out, her gun level with the Auxiliary’s head.

 

The voice laughed. The inside of his mouth was slick and dark with blood that stained his teeth and lips luridly bright red.

 

“I thought I’d try the old girl on for size, but turns out she doesn’t like me much. I’ll be handing her back over to you, captain.”

 

“Only Central Command can override Auxiliaries the way you’re doing. Identify yourself.”

 

He laughed again, derisive. From the sound of the wheezing and the blood now dripping from his mouth, the Auxiliary’s throat was being ripped apart from the inside. Kuroko couldn’t stop shaking but he kept his gun trained on him.

 

“Figured that one out all on your own, did you? Clever girl.”

 

“Identify—”

 

“Don’t test me. I still have the power to bring this rattling box you call a ship down around your ears.” He looked towards the body of the other Auxiliary and sneered, stiffly crouching down and caressing the exposed mess of veins and broken wires with a mocking gentleness. “Do you see the handiwork of your precious superiors, captain? Do you see it clearly? Or shall I provide another example to you, hm?”

He looked out at the group, unfazed by the guns he faced. “I see so many _brave_ and _eager_ volunteers. How shall I ever pick one?”

 

“Make one more move and I’ll blow your head off,” Hyuuga snarled out.

 

“You can shoot, but I won’t be the one you kill. Think you can live with that, boy?”

 

“I think I can manage—”

 

“Hyuuga, stop,” Riko’s voice was tight with fury. “What are you trying to achieve, doing this?”

 

The sneer morphed into a full smile, malicious and red-stained.

 

“Achieve? You’ve got me all wrong, girl. I just want to watch them dance.”

 

The light faded and the Auxiliary crumpled, twitching, his neck finally giving way to the pressure and splitting open. Kuroko felt bile rise in his throat and closed his eyes as Riko fired once. The bridge was still.

 

_If there are such things as gods, they do not live here._

“Someone get these bodies out of here,” Riko ordered quietly. “We’ll need to analyze the drives, see if we can’t get some clue on what happened.”

 

“Yes, captain.”

 

“I’m seeing injuries among you. Get down to Medical immediately.”

 

“Yes, captain.”

 

“Everyone else, take your positions. We need to keep the ship running. First Officer, you have the bridge. I’ll see if I can’t get the overhead comms on long enough to let the crew know we’re all clear.”

 

“Yes, captain,” he said shortly.

 

No one missed the way their hands brushed in passing. Of all the things that mattered right then, that was the least important.

 

Kuroko didn’t have a place on the bridge, but he stayed, helping where he could, his mind numb. They all avoided looking at the stains on the floor, ignored the stench hanging in the air. He listened intently to the calm way Captain Riko delivered the news—over a comm line that sounded just as tinny and hijacked as Izuki’s earlier line—that the _Tenebris_ was safe once more and all regular activities could resume.

 

“ _She’s strong,_ ” Mitobe signed, in between making adjustments at the console he sat at—trying to bring the shields back online.

 

“ _Very strong,_ ” Kuroko agreed. Stronger than most of them, he’d wager.

 

“ _They will be fine. The Auxiliaries. And Kiyoshi.”_

 

 _“And Koganei._ ”

 

Mitobe gave him a tiny smile, inclining his head in agreement. Kuroko still felt sick, but he had to believe in it, or he may as well give up now.

 

“I need reports, officers!” The captain announced as she stepped back on the bridge, her uniform jacket thrown over her shoulders, an odd juxtaposition to the after-hours clothes she still wore. “Talk to me, how are we doing?”

 

“ _Shields are at critically low levels, but rising, captain.”_ Mitobe’s hands moved to form the signs quickly. He gave a brief salute before turning back to the boards, adjusting buttons and levers with a familiar grace.

 

“All life functions are operational, captain.”

 

“Tenebris is still offline, captain, Research is looking into it.”

 

“Engines are holding steady, captain.”

 

Hyuuga saluted sloppily from where he sat in the pilot’s seat—the usual pilot in the secondary post, face ashen but determined. “We’re not going anywhere fast, captain, but we’re not dead in the water anymore. Navigation and gravitational fields are all on manual for the time being, but we can manage.”

 

“Good work everyone. You’ve proven yourselves worthy of the title of starship officer today.” She looked around the bridge critically, then smiled. “Keep making me proud.”

 

The weary officers seemed to gain a little more energy from her words, calling out their promise to keep working hard. Riko moved to the communications officer on duty, a harried looking young woman.

 

“Any word from Command?”

 

“Nothing yet, captain. Our signal’s nothing but static still. Might stay that way until the AI kicks back in.”

 

“Keep trying, officer. Try to alert any nearby ally ships if you can—we may not be the only ones affected by this.”

 

Kuroko bit back the burning urge to counter that order. Any nearby ship could have been sent from Command, to erase them all from existence. Perhaps worse, any nearby ship could belong to the person who had possessed the Auxiliaries.

 

Riko startled slightly as she finally noticed Kuroko and Nigou standing at attention nearby. She frowned.

 

“I thought I told you to get to Medical with the other injured, Lieutenant.”

 

“Captain,” he replied smoothly. “My injury has already been seen to by one of the officers. It’s looks worse than it is,” he added, even though his head still ached and he was subtly leaning on Nigou for support.

 

She had to be exhausted, but it didn’t show on her face. She always came alive during times of crisis. She waved Kuroko off.

 

“Healed or not, I want you off the bridge. With the rogues gone, we don’t need all hands on alert. Go sleep it off, that’s an order.”

 

Gone, she said. Not dead. Kuroko swallowed back the righteous flare of anger and saluted her.

 

“Yes, Captain.”

 

“That’s not a punishment, Lieutenant. Don’t look so grim.”

 

“Yes, Captain,” he said, but she had already turned and was marching to her post. For all that she was the smallest person in the room, there was something broad and dependable about her back.

 

Kuroko left, Nigou leading the way, doing his best to respond to the greetings of the few people he passed in the halls, their declarations that their Auxiliaries were starting to wake up. _Finally_ , they said, some annoyed, some relieved.

 

They did not have to bear witness to the carnage that kept them safe.

 

When Kuroko finally made it back to his room, buzzing with exhaustion, he had all but forgotten about the cadets staking out the place. They were all asleep except for Fukuda—who looked half-asleep until Kuroko jimmied the door open, his gun set across his knees. Kiyoshi sat beside him, hands folded neatly in his lap and his gaze unwavering on the door.

 

His eyes were brown, nothing but warm, soft, puppy-brown, and Kuroko could have cried with relief.

 

<Welcome back, Kuroko,> he said, those eyes tracing over him with worry.

 

“Sir,” Fukuda mumbled. The other two were flopped on Kuroko’s bed, softly snoring and dead to the world, but Fukuda struggled to his feet as Kuroko walked over. “Is everything…are we going to be okay? Did we get them?”

 

“The rogues are gone,” Kuroko said. “The Auxiliaries are slowly starting to come back.”

 

“And the Tenebris?”

 

“She’ll be back soon.”

 

All his tension melted away and his chin trembled for a moment before he ducked his head, letting his arms go slack, gun pointing down at last.

 

“G-Good. That’s good.” Then his head jerked back up. “I’ll wake the others, we’ll go back—”

 

Kuroko sighed and patted his arm, pushing him gently towards the bed. There was still some space, thanks to the strange piled-together positions the other two had taken up. “Just sleep, cadet.”

 

“But, sir, where…”

 

“Sleep,” Kuroko repeated. Fukuda didn’t argue a second time, just nodding tiredly and setting the gun aside before climbing up beside his fellows. He was out within moments of lying down.

 

Kuroko turned back to Kiyoshi, who still sat at the foot of the bed. Nigou took one look at the cadets sleeping in the bed and sneezed loudly before trotting back over to the door and sprawling out there.

 

<I’m back,> Kuroko replied belatedly. He offered Kiyoshi his hand, and he stared at it for a long, long moment before taking it. As always, his hands made Kuroko’s look positively tiny, and it was a struggle to get Kiyoshi on his feet. Kuroko didn’t fail to notice how he leaned to the right side almost completely.

 

Between the two of them, they managed to get to Kiyoshi’s room without falling over or crashing into anything, which probably shouldn’t have felt like as much of an accomplishment as it did. Kuroko helped lever Kiyoshi down on the bed and went back to slid the door shut.

 

The hole he had shot through it was blackened, exactly as far up to reach as Kiyoshi’s head.

 

“You got hurt,” Kiyoshi said quietly, voice tinged with both guilt and censure.

 

“It…” _looks worse than it is,_ Kuroko almost said yet again. It was still true, but it was tiring to say it over and over. “I’m fine. How’s your leg? We could still go down to Medical—”

 

“It’ll hold until morning.”

 

Kuroko wished he could tell when he lied.

 

“Kuroko,” Kiyoshi said, prompting him to raise his eyes up from his leg to his face. His expressive brows were lifted something curiously elegant about the way the shadows painted the angles of his face. “I’ve had much worse than this, you know. And Furihata tinkered around a little bit for me. I’ll be fine. Now you, on the other hand,” and he smiled faintly there, obviously pained, and beckoned him forward “look like you’ve been doing battle with your head as the weapon.”

 

Kuroko drifted over, sitting on the mattress at his urging, frowning when he pulled out what was much more than the standard issue med kit.

 

“Did you steal that?”

 

“Appropriated” he corrected absently, pulling out a sterilizing cloth and reaching for him. Kuroko leaned back instinctively.

 

“I can—”

 

“Please let me.”

 

Kiyoshi had leaned forward, chasing after him, but still waited for Kuroko’s tight nod of permission to start wiping away the dried blood. The antiseptic smell stung his eyes and nose, but Kiyoshi’s touch was gentle. Too close. Kuroko shut his eyes tightly to avoid the weight of his focused gaze, but it was almost worse, being in the dark and Kiyoshi’s whole being surrounding him.

 

“I appreciate that you kept your promise, Kuroko, but next time try to come back unharmed.”

 

“It seems a small price to pay for the safety of the ship. It’s my job to serve the ship and her crew to the best of my ability, no matter the cost.”

 

“I’m not saying that it’s wrong.” Kiyoshi peeled away the dermal patch carefully, dabbing at the edges of the mostly-healed wound even more gently. Kuroko couldn’t help flinching, but Kiyoshi used his free hand on his shoulder to push him back into stillness. “I just don’t like it. I don’t like seeing you get hurt.”

 

“It’s what I signed up for,” Kuroko croaked out.

 

“No, it’s not,” he said sharply. “No one signed up for this. Unless they’ve started telling new recruits that they’ll be killing each other and their own partners for the sake of what they call _peace—_ ”

 

Kuroko clumsily grabbed for his wrist, trying to pull his hand away from his face. Kiyoshi paused but Kuroko could still hear the hard edge of his voice, the shortness of his own breathing as his chest grew tight.

 

“Did I hurt you?” Kiyoshi asked, oh-so very softly.

 

“I’m angry,” Kuroko said tightly. The feel of tendons and skin in Kuroko’s grasp was purely human. “Kiyoshi, I’m—five people died today. All because someone decided they wanted to play around in their heads. And the Tenebris, who knows if she’ll come back the same. It’s wrong. What happened today was wrong.”

 

Kuroko drew in a breath and finally opened his eyes. Even though Kiyoshi was even closer than he expected, he did not flinch. His ears burned at the proximity, but he was looking for a sign, some kind of acknowledgement. _Tell me I’m right. Tell me that you know that this ship, this fleet, can’t go on like this._

 

“I’m furious, Kiyoshi.”

 

Kiyoshi’s laugh was breathy and delighted. He brought up his other hand and curled it over where Kuroko’s held his wrist, pulling it close to his chest. Right over his heart that always beat steadily, that thrummed with a mechanical life.

 

“I, too,” he said, his voice low like he was sharing a secret, “am furious.”

 

He let go, but the ghost of his touch remained, and Kuroko didn’t try to ignore the ease that it filled him with. Kiyoshi placed a new patch over the wound, one hand brushing back Kuroko’s hair and the other delicately pressing it to his skin.

 

“There. Good as new.” With a sigh, Kiyoshi heaved himself to his feet and limped to the door. “You sleep. I’m going to keep watch on them.”

 

“You don’t have to,” Kuroko said, but Kiyoshi shook his head. His face was turned just far enough that Kuroko only saw his jaw and the edge of a smile. “The rogues are gone. It’s safe again.”

 

“Kuroko, I’m not sure this place has ever been safe. Besides, I don’t really need the sleep. I’ll only keep you up.

With everything that had happened, Kuroko wasn’t convinced sleeping was a good idea.

 

“Do you know who it was, Kiyoshi? The one who did this?”

 

He went perfectly, unnaturally still. “It reminds me of someone I used to know,” he replied. “But they’re long dead.”

 

“You said he couldn’t take you. But he did.” Now that the words had started, it was impossible to keep them from pouring out. “For a while, he did. I think you were meant to be one of the five.”

 

One of the five that died, one of the five that were killed.

 

“You helped bring me back, Kuroko.”

 

“Because I shot you?” he said, a pressure behind his eyes that threatened to become tears.

 

“Because I kept thinking I had to be your shield. I could never do anything to hurt you, Kuroko.” Kiyoshi turned his face fully towards him, and there something there—sweeter than honesty, softer than fondness—that made Kuroko feel again that they were at the edge of a cliff. Any single move could tip them over the edge. But Kiyoshi had already turned back. “Well, the shooting helped though.”

 

Kuroko had many more words, but none that made sense. None that would mean anything.

 

“Goodnight, Kuroko.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

The sheets smelled like him. A small comfort. Kuroko touched the bracelet around his wrist and closed his eyes.

 

It was heavy again, today.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kuroko woke long before his alarm was due to wake him, poorly rested and on-edge. He had dreamed, many things. Mostly things he did not care to remember. Death, destruction, darkness. The look in the rogue Auxiliary’s eyes just before Kuroko blew his head to bits, the way the last Auxiliary still clung to the last, twitching vestiges of life even after his throat was very literally torn to shreds—

 

Ogiwara’s smile. The memory was more bitter than sweet and Kuroko wasn’t sure what dreams he preferred.

 

And then that other dream, the one he’d had before. A cage. A man he could not see, singing, the tune familiar and yet not, the sound both lovely and frightening.

 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Kuroko slid out of the bed and made his shuffling way out into the other room— _his_ room. It took a few moments to reorient himself with the space.

 

The cadets were still in a pile, snoring. They needed the rest, and even if they had to commandeer his bed to achieve that, Kuroko didn’t mind. When he looked to the door where he had last seen Nigou, his heart nearly stopped.

 

Nigou was still there.

 

Kiyoshi was also there.

 

Kiyoshi was asleep, on his side, between the dog and the door, half-sprawled on top of Nigou like he was a great furry pillow. He didn’t stir at Kuroko’s approached, although Nigou’s tail thumped twice against the floor. Kuroko knelt down, burying his fingers in the thick fur at the dog’s neck, smiling at the happy huff of breath he let out.

 

But his eyes were only for Kiyoshi, the way his face settled into a slack, peaceful expression, the way his chest didn’t rise or fall visibly. Kuroko was tempted to touch him to make sure he was still alive. He got as far as letting his fingertips hover over his chest, where he had felt the thrumming of his heart last night before he thought better of it. With a self-deprecating grimace, Kuroko pulled his hand back and let his eyes wander aimlessly around the dark room.

 

He was getting too attached. He was already too attached, more than he thought he ever could be.

 

With a sigh, Kuroko stretched out on the other side of Nigou, running his fingers through his fur.

 

_What am I supposed to do?_

Kuroko closed his eyes again, wishing he knew how stop.

 

“No, I don’t think you’ll get in trouble.”

 

Kuroko tensed at the sound of Kiyoshi’s voice. His body felt stiff and he could the warm weight of Nigou’s body beside him, which meant he had fallen asleep on the floor.

 

That didn’t account the other weight he felt, the other warmth.

 

He could have sworn Kiyoshi had been on the _other_ side of the dog, not sitting right next to him. Certainly he did not fall asleep with his head in the other man’s lap or the other man’s arm so casually and protectively draped over him.

 

“But, Kiyoshi we…we disobeyed a direct order. We…the captain said to stay put but we went out—”

 

“We stole the charge grenades—”

 

“—and saved your superior officer’s life,” Kiyoshi reminded them. “Don’t worry. We won’t let anything bad happen to any of you.”

 

Kuroko tensed more, preparing to move away as quickly and with as little fuss as possible.

 

<If they know you’re awake, it will upset them, Kuroko. They were trying hard not to wake you up. Just stay like this for a little longer, okay?>

 

Kuroko kept his eyes closed and clenched his jaw, before begrudgingly surrounding to his body’s desire to relax.

 

< _Fine._ >

 

There was the sound of footsteps—three pairs of feet—and rustling clothes. Kuroko could feel the displaced air as the cadets trooped by them to exit the room. One paused beside them.

 

“Is the Lieutenant going to be okay?” That was Furihata’s voice, uncertain. “His head…”

 

“He’s fine, I promise. He just needs to rest.”

 

“I’m…I’m sorry, you know. That I killed them. I know there wasn’t anything else to be done, but I’m still sorry.”

 

“Try not to dwell on it. Lives have been lost over lesser things.”

 

“Do you think he knows?”

 

Kiyoshi’s arm drew tighter around him.

 

“I think he knows, better than anyone, Furihata.”

 

At last the door closed, leaving them alone.

 

“Kiyoshi, please let me go,” Kuroko sighed, opening his eyes and turning his head to glare up at him. His traitorous body found his current position very comfortable, but this was just too much.

 

The arm loosened and Kuroko sat up immediately, wincing slightly at the head-rush. The lights were on in the room, dim and low.

 

<Good morning, Lieutenant Kuroko.>

 

“Tenebris,” he said, starting at the sound of her voice. Kiyoshi smiled and Kuroko realized his own lips had pulled up subconsciously, mirroring the expression. “Welcome back,” he continued without thinking.

 

There was a slight pause. <Affirmative, Lieutenant. I’m back.>

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Central Command’s official statement is they had nothing to do with yesterday’s incident,” Kiyoshi said, leaning in the doorway to the bathroom as Kuroko splashed water on his face. The dermal patch had come away clean, not even the faintest of scars left behind.

 

If only he could clear his mind of the visions so easily.

 

“They’re lying.”

 

“Maybe not.” He handed Kuroko a towel when he started groping blindly at the counter.

 

“Then who, Kiyoshi?” Kuroko asked impatiently, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “You seem so certain despite claiming not to know who it was trying to stake a claim to your brain.”

 

Kiyoshi did not answer. Not even a platitude, for once. Kuroko sighed, tugging his uniform straight.

 

“We need to see Medical about your leg.”

 

“I never thanked you. For coming back.”

 

Looking at him in the mirror, it felt safer than speaking to him face-to-face, even he was logically just off to the side, as close as always.

 

“I will always—”

 

_“Stay with me. Promise you’ll stay with me, Tetsuya.”_

_“I’m staying.”_

_“Don’t leave me.”_

_“Not ever. I promise.”_

_Ogiwara’s smile was blood-filled and brilliant, his fingers clutching tightly to Kuroko’s hand even as the light in his eyes dimmed._

_“Me too. Not ever. They’re going to take my body, you know. Change me into something else.”_

_“I know.”_

_“I want you—I need you to be the one. My officer. Promise you’ll stay with me. Tetsuya? Tetsuya, I can’t see—”_

_“I’m here.”_

_“I’m gonna leave. Just a short while, Tetsuya.” He coughed, thickly. Blood. Kuroko’s skin burned where the tears fell, his side hurt where the gunfire had grazed him. The pain was secondary to this. “But I’m coming back. I will always—”_

“—come back.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally getting back in the writing groove! This can technically be read as the first half of the next chapter that's upcoming so if it feels less action-oriented...that's why!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Amplified

The Medical bay was bustling with activity, more white-uniformed officers working than Kuroko had seen in a long time, all moving with swift efficiency and a steely, painfully focused calm.

 

It was the closest to full occupancy he had seen the bay on this particular ship, even though it was hardly close at all. It still made him feel faintly ill.

 

“That was quite the lucky shot, you know,” the Medical officer who was helping them was saying conversationally as he tinkered with Kiyoshi’s prosthetic. “Blew right through the joint, but you missed all the arterial parts. Honestly, you mostly just destroyed the wires, not too much vein damage.”

 

It had to do with aim, not luck. Kuroko murmured something vague in agreement while Kiyoshi lay perfectly still on the table. He felt the urge to touch his hand where it rested on the thin sheet, maybe to apologize. Instead, Kuroko kept them laced together in his lap.

 

“This will just be a quick fix, obviously, since we’re busy and it will take time to rebuild everything, but this should get your Auxiliary up and about just fine.”

 

“Kuroko, there’s a problem,” Kiyoshi said tightly, low and fast, his gaze distant. The Medical officer glanced up in surprise, maybe because he called Kuroko by name, maybe because it was the first words the Auxiliary had spoken unprompted since getting down here.

 

“Does it feel uncomfortable? I’m changing up some of the wirings from before for a cleaner feed to the limb.”

 

“Is that what that is?” Kiyoshi smiled kindly, but Kuroko could see the coiled energy in his shoulders, the cold depth to his eyes. The officer relaxed, uncertainty appeased.

 

“Yes, that’s all that would be. Sorry, I should have warned you, but most Auxiliaries aren’t…sensitive to that kind of thing.”

 

Rather, they could feel it but didn’t have the wherewithal or programming allowance to voice a concern. Or pain.

 

<What’s wrong, Kiyoshi?>

 

<Communications blackout,> Kiyoshi murmured, eyes lidded and slightly unfocused. <It’s a direct block from the Command mainframe, I can’t break through it anywhere.> The cold lights of the bay, usually not something he noticed, felt like a threatening presence looming over him.

 

“Lieutenant! You’re needed on the bridge!”

 

At first, Kuroko didn’t think the voice was calling for him, but the footsteps and panting breath came closer; he turned and saw the young communications officer from yesterday coming to a stop nearby. She spared Kiyoshi only the smallest of glances before saluting.

 

“I didn’t hear anything on the comm,” he said slowly, getting to his feet regardless, and she shook her head.

 

“You wouldn’t. All that splicing Lieutenant Izuki and Captain did yesterday messed things up in a bad way, so the comms are down until Mechanical can spare the manpower to fix it.”

 

As quickly as Kuroko had the thought that _Tenebris_ could have alerted him, he realized that no one probably trusted her right now. No one could be certain that whatever—or whoever—had possessed the Auxiliaries wasn’t still lurking behind the AI.

 

“I’ll be right there, thank you, officer.”

 

She nodded and trotted off again, dodging around the other officers as she went. The one working on Kiyoshi’s leg sighed.

 

“Best you just go, Lieutenant, this will take too long for you to wait around.”

 

“How long?”

 

He shrugged, frowning intently at the wires he was piecing back together. “Hour, maybe two. I can either send your Auxiliary along or you can pick him up yourself.”

 

<Kiyoshi?>

 

<It’s fine. I’ll find you after.> But the tendons in his neck stood out and he barely seemed to draw any breath. Kuroko stood, purposefully brushing against his hand as he did; it would appear as an accident to anyone else, but it got Kiyoshi to look at him, brows drawn together.

 

Kuroko offered the suggestion of a smile. Kiyoshi didn’t relax, but inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment.

 

“Thank you for your work, officer.”

 

“Sure thing, Lieutenant.”

 

Walking alone, once a familiar thing, now felt strange.

 

Kuroko didn’t let himself dwell on it.

 

No one seemed to notice when Kuroko stepped onto the bridge and the familiar of being invisible was an easy comfort. He took the opportunity to observe.

 

Tensions were running high, unsurprisingly—even Izuki, whose presence was a surprise considering the number of ongoing repairs, was stone-faced, arms folded tight. His hands were smudged with grease, as were his arms where he had rolled up his sleeves.

 

More telling was the quiet.

 

There were a few subdued murmurs but otherwise no one was speaking to each other. He didn’t spend an overlarge amount of time on the bridge, but there was always a lot of chatter going on. Hyuuga looked ready to bash heads—his own included—and Mitobe was hunched over his control panel with his back very pointedly towards the rest of the room.

 

<Tene—>

 

<Yes, Lieutenant Kuroko?>

 

He had thought before that her voice was always the same. Before Kiyoshi came along, he had thought of her as _her._ But if he wasn’t mistaken, the _Tenebris_ sounded especially eager to be spoken to.

 

<Good morning, Tenebris.>

 

<Good morning, Lieutenant Kuroko. How may I help?>

 

<How long as the blackout been in effect?>

 

A pause. Kuroko shifted out of the captain’s line of sight when she turned her head, casually sidestepping towards Mitobe.

 

<Central Command disabled all communicative functions two hours and seven minutes ago.>

 

<Thank you.>

 

Captain Riko clicked her tongue irritably.

 

“Officer, I thought you said the Lieutenant was coming from the Medical Bay.”

 

“Yes, Captain, he is.”

 

They weren’t using the _Tenebris_ to track anyone’s locations anymore then.

 

“If he doesn’t show up in the next two minutes, I’m making this call without him, like it or—”

 

“I’m right here, Captain,” Kuroko interrupted. It was gratifying to see how quickly she turned his way, less so to see her hand automatically fall to her gun. Her expression was full of disapproval as several of the other officers jumped at the sound of his voice.

 

“Say something next time, or I’ll make you wear a bell. Again.”

 

“Of course, Captain. I apologize.”

 

“Attention please, everyone.” Koganei touched Mitobe’s arm briefly and he turned with the rest of them to await the captain’s words. “As I’m sure you’re aware, we are currently under a communications blackout. I was given no prior notice of this action from Command. Not only does this cut us off form the rest of the fleet, but we have no way of contacting any of the allied planets in the area to dock and make repairs as planned.”

 

She took a deep breath, folding her hands behind her back.

 

“We’re all aware that what happened yesterday was a nightmare. If word gets out, people would naturally panic. I’m about to call Command and request a lift of the blackout. I trust, when we land, you will all use discretion.”

 

“You really think they’ll lift it?” one officer asked nervously. The fear in their voice was not unfounded; being put under a blackout meant the worst had happened. It meant that what happened yesterday was exactly as bad as they all thought, if not worse.

 

“They’re going to have to. Unless they’re willing to condemn hundreds of their finest officers to death.”

 

Kuroko wasn’t convinced that their implied unwillingness to kill their own was as true as she made it sound. The others seemed to draw comfort from the statement, although Izuki was frowning. Kuroko held his peace, biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted iron.

 

“Any objections?”

 

“No, captain.”

 

Riko nodded sharply. “All right, Tenebris, put us through.”

 

It didn’t take long at all before they were staring at the face of a Command representative on the screen. He was perfectly average looking, dark of eye and hair, the silvery-grey of his uniform so immaculate it seemed painted on.

 

His head tilted slightly to one side. “Captain Aida Riko. How might I be of assistance?”

 

“I’m requesting a lift on the blackout,” she said. Her head was thrown back, thumbs slung through the belt loops of her uniform. Kuroko saw the glint of her many commendations on her chest and shoulders and felt a fierce sense of pride. She was strong. She knew what kind of game she was playing.

 

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” the man replied smoothly. “Until we can determine the cause of—”

 

“The ship needs repairs. If you don’t give us communications back, I’ll be forced to make an illegal landing, for the safety of my ship and the crew.”

 

His thin lips stretched in a coldly condescending smile.

 

“Now, now, captain. That’s treason you’re talking.”

 

“You’ll forgive me, I’m sure, for being unwilling to let my entire crew die for the sake of regulations. I’m sure you feel the same, sir.”

 

The smile stretched painfully. The officer was certainly feeling the weight of the crew watching him. Hyuuga glared openly, and Izuki wasn’t much better. They knew, official statement or not, Command was involved somehow with the harm caused to their ship.

 

“I’m sure,” he repeated, just a touch shy of snide.

 

“Then we have an agreement.”

 

“Oh, I’m afraid not, captain. It’s rather beyond my paygrade, you see, to lift a blackout.” The officer reached up and smoothed the front of his uniform as if to draw attention to the color. Command silver, not Fleet black.

 

Riko peeled her lips back in a smile so vicious that the Command officer faltered.

 

“Then I suggest, sir,” she said, nothing but calm, “that you transfer me to someone _beyond your paygrade_ with the _authority_ to do so.”

 

“I’m afraid that’s not possible at this time, captain.”

 

“Oh,” she said, very soft, “I’m sure you’ll manage.”

 

There was a brief silence, so oppressively charged that Kuroko thought the air might catch fire around her.

 

“I’m granting the Tenebris permission to dock at allied planet Votum.”

 

Riko tilted her head slightly, rolling her shoulders easily, the way she always did after successfully completing a throw-down. “Well, that’s a start.”

 

“I don’t have to remind you that the…ah, _unfortunate_ events of yesterday are meant to be strictly confidential. Only the minimum number of officers should be among the landing party.”

 

Riko nodded smartly.

 

“Will that be all, captain? I have other duties—”

 

“That’s not all. I’d like an explanation,” Riko cut him off easily, “as to why my ship has been put under a high-security communications lock with no notice of any kind, nor any indication from Command that they received our messages other than your _official_ statement.”

 

“Captain,” the man smiled, sickly smooth, “a ship directly from Command is en route to your location as we speak. I’m sure they will assess the situation fully and inform you as needed.”

 

The Captain’s smile was nothing but bared teeth and a livid tension roiling around her. Kuroko glanced at the others; the older officers were little better than her, the younger ones looking both frustrated and frightened. He felt sick to his stomach. Perhaps they meant they were sending an assassin, perhaps they didn’t. But a ship directly from Command coming to the _Tenebris_ was bad news.

 

“Will that be all, captain?”

 

“It will. Thanks for all your help, sir.”

 

“The…pleasure was entirely mine.”

 

They were all left staring at the blank screen that showed only the vastness of space beyond as the connection broke off.

 

Riko clapped her hands together once, making several of them jump. “Well,” she commented brightly. “That went well! First Officer, take us in for the docking sequence. Show your junior the ropes of doing it manually. Everyone else, it’s business as usual. Oh, but please spread the word, Tenebris,” she added with a grin that made Kuroko want to laugh as well as shield himself, “anyone who wants in on the landing party is more than welcome to come along.”

 

A small cheer broke out in the bridge, even Mitobe throwing up his hands with an intent glint in his eyes. Distantly they could hear the excited whoops and cheers from down the halls. A passing officer stuck their head in the room, shouted _hell yeah, cap!_ and vanished again.

 

Kuroko quietly took his leave.

 

<Kiyoshi?> he tried, hoping the distance wasn’t too far.

 

<I’ll meet you at the airlock.>

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“We weren’t expecting such a crowd,” the dock manager said hesitantly, eyes darting over the crew members milling about the station, waiting for more shuttles arrive to take them planet-side.

 

Riko smiled, warm and bright. At his side, Kiyoshi was doing a poor job of disguising his laughter.

 

“Well, you know how it is!” she said jovially, clapping her hand to the man’s arm in a show of comradery that made him stand up straighter. She was still wearing her full uniform, after all, medallions and all. “Crew gets restless after a while. I promise they won’t cause any trouble. I know they must seem young, but they’re a dependable lot.”

 

“Yes,” he hurried to agree, smiling shyly, a healthy blush on his dark cheeks. “Yes, I can see that, ma’am! Very dependable, very dependable indeed!”

 

Kiyoshi hastily turned his snort into a cough and Kuroko hurried them towards the shuttle bay to avoid any vengeance from the captain.

 

It was cramped in the shuttle, the recycled air just as stale and unpleasant as always, but the sense of anticipation around him made it bearable. Kiyoshi held himself still in his seat, but his eyes were focused out the windows, staring just as intently as the younger officers at the approaching surface of the planet.

 

Kuroko let his eyes close and just waited.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The gravity was heavier than he was used to on the surface, but the air was crisp and fresh in his lungs. After calling out a warning to not wander far from the station, they all scattered.

 

The city didn’t look any different than any others Kuroko had been to. In fact, it reminded him a little of his birthplace; worn-out but well-cared for houses, the people milling busily about. There was pale pink dust in the air, even though the roads were partially paved with stone tile.

 

Kiyoshi gazed around the view with avid fascination, Kuroko thought, until he grabbed his arm.

 

“Where can we get some food?” he asked, sounding urgent.

 

“There’s the station,” Kuroko began slowly, but Kiyoshi waved that idea away as nonsense.

 

“No, I meant, here. Real food from the city. Are we restricted from entering anywhere, you think? There used to be restrictions for Auxiliaries in small places like this.”

 

Kuroko gently removed Kiyoshi’s hand from his arm. It took him a moment to clear his throat enough to speak. He didn’t bother trying to convince himself it was the dust.

 

“Those restrictions were outlawed, forty years ago.”

 

Kiyoshi turned a huge smile on him that made his heart stutter uncomfortably. Kuroko wanted to look away but found himself fixated by the expression. The surprised joy in his face was painful but mesmerizing.

 

“That’s _wonderful._ ”

 

With a cheerful exclamation that he would find the best place, Kuroko found himself trailing after Kiyoshi down the street. There were a few restaurants that he saw, but Kiyoshi passed them all until they came across a small stall run by an old woman, and a spindly looking humanoid that reminded Kuroko vaguely of a praying mantis.

 

“Are you open for business, ma’am?” Kiyoshi asked politely, bending down so their heads were slightly more level. She beamed up at him.

 

“What will you be having today? Ah, two of you?” she added when she caught sight of Kuroko standing off to the side.

 

“Just us two, yes. If you please, we’ll have whatever your specialty is.”

 

They took a seat on one of the sturdy benches to wait for their food. Even though they had the whole bench to themselves, Kiyoshi sat directly next to him, arms and legs bumping every time he shifted. Kuroko should have moved.

 

He stayed.

 

They watched the people passing by in a peaceful silence that made Kuroko long for the planet station he had left behind—the day he had left felt like years ago instead of just weeks. And after all the violence that happened in that short time span, the quiet simplicity of this planet was both welcome and unsettling.

 

“Kiyoshi, the cadets—”

 

“I’m watching them,” he said soothingly, patting Kuroko’s leg in an absent gesture. “They’re not far. They’re safe.”

 

Kuroko wasn’t certain if he should say _thank you_ or _sorry for thinking you wouldn’t be watching them_ , so he kept quiet, nodding and pulling his leg away. It made Kiyoshi smile again.

 

“Excuse me!” a small voice said from behind them. They turned; Kuroko’s eyes were first drawn to the mantis-person, who held a small tray of steaming tea, but there was also a child carrying a tray of some type of bun. “Your order, sirs!”

 

“Thank you.”

 

The child stayed even when the other returned to the back of the stall, fidgeting in place.

 

“You’re from that ship that docked?” he blurted out.

 

“We are,” Kuroko replied, smiling faintly when the boy’s entire face lit up with excitement.

 

“So you’re starship officers! That’s so _cool._ ” The boy was looking at Kiyoshi with starry eyes. “ _And_ you’ve got legs like me,” he said excitedly. Kiyoshi smiled, his hand rubbing subconsciously at his prosthetic.

 

“I do,” he said.

 

“Are there a lot of starship officers with legs like us?”

 

“All kinds,” Kuroko assured him. He startled slightly, blinking over at him before beaming again. “I’m sure you’ll make a fine officer one day.”

 

“I want to be just like you!” he exclaimed, the words directed to Kiyoshi. The Auxiliary’s smile looked brittle and it hurt, _oh_ , did it hurt to see that. Kiyoshi just ruffled the kid’s hair gently. He was too young. He couldn’t tell the difference between human and not-quite. He didn’t know that if you saw only two Starfleet uniforms, only one was an officer, the other, a weapon.

 

“You’ll be much better than me. I promise.”

 

They ate in silence, stopping to pay—Kuroko’s duty, since Auxiliaries didn’t have money of their own—and thank the old woman—Kiyoshi did so profusely, exclaiming that her cooking tasted just like his own grandmother’s. Whether or not that was true, Kuroko couldn’t be certain, but he had charmed them all just the same.

Once they were wandering the street, Kiyoshi spoke to him directly.

 

<I don’t want you to think I’ve been spying on you but—>

 

<But you’ve been spying on me.>

 

<Only a little. Now might be a good time to contact your friends.>

 

Kuroko wondered to what extent he had been listening in to his personal conversations. And how. Those questions would have to wait, as would the indignation and anger about the invasion of privacy.

 

<How exactly do you suggest I do that in a blackout?> he asked coolly, even though he already knew. Kuroko couldn’t be sure this meant danger was coming, he couldn’t be sure what Command wanted other than the hijacking of one of their fleet not to become public knowledge. Could he really take the chance that they weren’t using this as an opportunity to erase those from the crew who knew too much?

 

Kuroko had never considered himself a betting man, but lately his life seemed full of nothing but gamble after gamble.

 

<Kuroko, I know about your direct line. Don’t you think now would be the time to use it?>

 

Kuroko looked around; they had come to one of the quieter streets. A residential area rather than the city proper. Kuroko hesitated for a handful of seconds before using Midorima’s direct code.

 

He was connected in less time than it took to count down from ten.

 

“Are you injured?” was the curtly delivered question Midorima’s voice asked in his head. No video; it was safer without the image, easier to hide. But Kuroko recognized that tone. It was the same one Midorima had used on the whole Teiko squad at one point or another, whenever someone had an _adventure_ gone awry, leaving them dependent on him to fix them up.

 

“I’m not. Midorima—”

 

“Are you being held somewhere? No, nevermind, let me track your location—”

 

“Midorima, the Tenebris is under a communications blackout.”

 

Midorima was silent. Fear clawed viciously up his throat and Kuroko startled with Kiyoshi touched his back, just one large hand urging him forward. Kuroko became aware he had come to a standstill in the street and began to move, farther and farther from the city. _Farther from the station._

 

“Tell me everything. I am searching and there isn’t even a ghost of a rumor about your ship.”

 

“We were hijacked, in a way,” Kuroko said, at a loss of how to summarize the events and still capture the horror of them. “All but five of the Auxiliaries were completely shut down, the ship AI went down. And the five…they attacked. They were possessed by someone.”

 

Like beasts. Except for the last one.

 

“Only someone at Command could cause a shutdown to the extent you’re speaking. But the ship AI, it doesn’t make sense for that to shut down.”

 

“I know that.”

 

“I will inform Takao,” Midorima said at last. “Please wait for our call.”

 

The connection broke and Kuroko felt, terribly, alone.

 

It was a short-lived loneliness.

 

His head was suddenly echoing with a myriad of notifications, a hot pressure at his temples as his port tried to handle the calls all at once. Kuroko could feel the difference, could feel all the calls feeding through his direct line, more than he thought could ever come through.

 

Kuroko answered one, blindly, and hissed in relief and surprise when all of them slid neatly into place. Two, four, six, eight.

 

“ _Tetsu!”_ Momoi cried out in his head. “Are you okay? All that Midorin would say was that you were in danger—”

 

“I’m not in danger,” he tried to assure her, but there were already other voices clamoring loudly.

 

“That is not _all I said,_ Momoi, I clearly stated—”

 

“Hey, Kuro-chin, did they really lock you out? That sucks.”

 

“Tetsu, what the hell,” Aomine ground out, obviously having been woken up. “Why didn’t you call me right when it happened?”

 

“Because you’re too far away, obviously, Aomine. But Kuroko! My ship isn’t too far off, I’m the one you should have called first!”

 

“Shut _up_ , Kise.”

 

“That’s enough.” Akashi used his normal level of speaking, not even snapping, but they all quieted down just the same. “I have a diplomatic session in two hours. We need to finish this conversation by then. Is that clear?”

 

There were several mutters of assent, although Kuroko was certain he heard Kagami and Aomine both snort.

 

“Kuroko,” Akashi said, his voice considerably warmer. “I’m glad that we can all speak to each other again, even if the circumstances leave much to be desired.”

 

“Everyone,” he said, voice hoarse. He hadn’t been expecting this, to hear the voices of his fellow Teiko trainees and Kagami, too. Kuroko gave into the urge to close his eyes, touching his bracelet on reflex. He could feel Kiyoshi’s solid bulk a few centimeters away at his side. _Everyone._ “Thank you.”

 

“Tell us everything, Tetsu,” Aomine demanded.

“No holding back either,” Kagami added.

 

Kiyoshi’s fingers brushed against his and Kuroko opened his eyes. The touch was too careful to be an accident. _I should be angry. I shouldn’t want this._ The memory of running wild in the streets with Ogiwara was a child rose to the surface of his mind. He had always been grabbing Kuroko’s hand and dragging him along, _come look, Tetsuya, come see!_ This was different.

 

Everything was different.

 

No one was there to see but the buildings and the dust, but as much as Kuroko desired to take his hand—a wonderfully confusing desire that, tried though he might, would not stay filed neatly away where he could ignore it—he didn’t. Couldn’t.

 

If he reached for Kiyoshi, he didn’t think he would ever let go.

 

Kuroko let their knuckles brush together, just once more, before putting his hands safely in his pockets.

 

“I’ll tell you all that I know,” Kuroko answered.

 

He kept the small details to himself. How afraid he was of letting the cadets down, how good it felt to be needed. What Furihata looked like when he cried. Exactly how terrible it was to watch an Auxiliary be torn apart from the inside out. The sound of Kiyoshi’s laughter and how assured it made him feel.

 

 _He’s dangerous_ , Midorima had warned him. _A killer._

 

They were all killers. And Kiyoshi was dangerous in ways he did not expect.

 

When Kuroko finally stopped speaking, the inside of his head was silent and he felt like someone had scooped everything out of him and tossed it to the winds. He felt like if the far-off pale sunlight touched his skin too closely, he would vanish, and the dust of his body would join the stars.

 

“Shit, Tetsu,” Aomine said.

 

“Don’t just _swear at him,_ Dai-chan,” Momoi sniffed. “That’s _rude._ ”

 

“Yes, captain, sorry, captain.”

 

“This is worse than I calculated,” he heard Midorima mutter.

 

Kuroko took a few breaths, trying not to focus too much on their worried chatter. His head was starting to pound, and he wondered how safe it could be to use the direct line so openly for so long. Kiyoshi was pointedly not watching him, dark gaze roving over their surroundings as they continued to meander down the road. They would have to turn back soon.

 

“I don’t expect you all to help figure this out,” Kuroko said at last. “I know you have your own ships to deal with—”

 

“Your fight is our fight,” Akashi said dismissively. Like the fact that none of them had seen each other in years except for briefly during calls meant nothing, or that they were spread to the very corners of the known universe was nothing but a paltry detail.

 

Like they were still a team.

 

His eyes watered. He wondered if maybe they had never stopped being a team, after all.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I…thank you. All of you.”

 

Takao cleared his throat loudly. “Not to break up the touching declarations of love, but Kuroko, I’m going to need whatever information your people could extract from those Auxiliaries.”

 

“That’s not something he can give you over the direct line,” Akashi pointed out.

 

“Cool it, would you? The blackout can’t last forever. And anyway, I can walk him through cracking his way out of it long enough for a file transfer.”

 

Midorima sighed. “A transfer during a time like this is too risky, even if we do need the information. It would make more sense for you to do a remote link up and view it than attempt an extraction.”

 

“Shin-chan, I’m flattered you think so highly of my skills, but even _I_ can’t process things quickly enough for a remote to be worth it. We are just as likely to get caught, even going through proxies—”

 

“Not if you have two people crack in on different parts of the system, stupid,” Murasakibara mumbled around a mouthful of something. The line fell quiet.

 

“Very astute observation, Murasakibara. It would be a fine distraction.”

 

“Yeah, and I don’t suppose you’re volunteering either _,_ ” Kagami said irritably, and the other man made a vague noise that was neither in agreement or disagreement.

 

“I don’t see _you_ volunteering,” he griped right back at him.

 

“Just because I’m not a giant _tech nerd—_ ”                                    

 

“If you’re done being snippy at each other, I have an _actual_ plan,” Momoi said, perfectly patient. Just like old times.

 

They had never stopped being a team. Kuroko had merely stopped thinking of them in terms of his team.

 

The danger that loomed over him had not lessened any, but it was easier to breathe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I understand that you in particular, Lieutenant Kuroko, had an unpleasant altercation with one of these,” the Command official glanced down at the data tablet in front of him with a bored tilt of his head, “so-called rouges.”

 

It had been over an hour already, the official arriving on his ship far earlier in the morning than any of them usually woke up, bristling with pride and annoyance at being brought out to what he probably considered to be an outdated ship in the backwaters of space.

 

“We all experienced some degree of unpleasantness that day, sir.”

 

_And are still experiencing it now._

 

“Lucky that you had called the cadets up to see you despite the later hour,” he drawled out, tone nothing but easy and friendly. Kuroko murmured a bland agreement, looking intently past his head to the barely-there seam of the door behind him.

 

“Lucky they had those charge grenades too. Curious though, since cadets should not have access to high-powered weaponry without prior authorization, let along something so vastly destructive. Perhaps I will need to do a regulation audit while I’m here. For the safety of the ship.”

 

_If you touch them, I will end you._

 

<Breathe, Kuroko.> Kiyoshi’s voice was distant and pale with the space between them, but the reminder of what exactly was on the line here was grounding.

 

“Respectfully sir,” Kuroko said calmly, feeling the expectant gazes of the other officers and the captain on him, “the cadets acted with initiative. Without the brave actions they took, the rogues would have caused considerably more damage than they already did. I imagine that both Lieutenant Mitobe and I would not have come away as unscathed as we did, either.”

 

“Is that so?’ he asked, obviously skeptical.

 

“It’s exactly as he said sir,” Koganei said.

 

The Command official turned his head slowly down the table and gave the Auxiliary a scathing look. He had protested the presence, having already demanded that no AI be present during the meeting, but was forced to agree when Captain Riko very politely asked him how good his sign language was.

 

“If you don’t mind, sir,” Riko interrupted before the interrogation could continue further; he had already gone down the line, asking similar questions of everyone, probing around. Trying to find ways to avoid the actual topic at hand, it felt like. “We were promised answers. We all know that only the Command mainframe has the capability to forcibly take over an Auxiliary.”

 

“If _you_ don’t mind, captain,” he snapped, “but I am not at liberty to speak about such things at this time. My orders are to observe and collect data on the current situation aboard the ship, not to spend time coddling grown soldiers.”

 

<Can we kill him yet, captain?> the First Officer’s voice growled in all their heads. Izuki hid a smile behind his hand.

 

<He’s just doing his job,> the captain advised, but even she sounded amused.

 

<Sure, if his job is being a gigantic prick—>

 

<A _giganprick_ , if you will.>

 

Kuroko bent his head slightly, curling his fingers into the pants of his uniform to hold back the hysterical laughter that threatened to bubble out—more from the adrenaline and the fear than true amusement.

 

The official cleared his throat loudly, a censuring frown on his face, and continued on with his questions.

 

“It is my understanding from this report that one of the rogues spoke coherently with you. Yet the report makes no note of what was said.”

 

Riko inspected her nails with interest. “It spoke right before self-destructing. I’m afraid I can’t recall the exact words. Something about seeing the handiwork of my superiors.”

 

_I just want to see them dance._

 

They all sobered quickly. The Command official shifted uncomfortably as if he could feel the new, darker atmosphere like a physical force. One hand tugged the collar of his uniform—silver in a sea of black, a star shining in the void.

 

“Yes, well. Clearly the thing was deranged. Corrupted drives, you know. They cause all types of malfunctions in Auxiliaries.”

 

“That so, sir?” Izuki drawled out lazily. “Strange, but our officers didn’t say a word about finding any corruption in the data from their drives. Isn’t that right, First Officer Hyuuga?”

 

“That’s correct.” Both his eyes were intent on burning holes through the Command official’s pristine uniform. “They were all overheated, so most of their drives are fried, but the salvageable data shows no signs of corruption so far.”

 

The official looked back down at his dataplate.

 

“I’m certain that with further investigation, the truth will come to light.”

 

“But of course, sir,” Hyuuga and Riko said together, the first a threat, the second a promise. “That’s all we want.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Going unnoticed was his specialty, but Kuroko wasn’t certain that even he could stay invisible while assisting in the theft of highly protected information during a Command enforced blackout.

_Just get me those files, Kuroko. Let me and the gang worry about the rest._

As if it was that easy.

 

He prayed, fervently, to the gods he did not truly think we watching, that it would be.

 

“You know, I really don’t like this,” Kiyoshi said, not for the first time.

 

“It’s not a matter of you liking it or not.” Kuroko pulled his uniform straighter, glancing to where the Auxiliary was lounged comfortably on his bed, new leg elevated. He looked too comfortable there. Like he belonged there. “It’s what needs to be done.”

 

“Kuroko, don’t be so unkind as to not let me worry.”

 

He sighed and walked to the door.

 

“Worry all you like then, Kiyoshi. I’ll be back soon.”

 

“Wait a moment.” The bed creaked as Kiyoshi rose to his feet. When Kuroko turned back grudgingly, Kiyoshi’s fist was raised towards him expectantly, a small smile on his face. “For good luck!”

 

Kuroko waited a beat, then bumped his knuckles to Kiyoshi’s. And when Kiyoshi’s other hand reached out to ruffle his hair, Kuroko quickly ducked out the door, the sound of his laughter chasing him.

 

He had spent a good amount of time poring over the layout of Mechinical just in case there were any changes, asking Tenebris, casually, about any shift changes. She was more than eager to assist, and he felt rather duplicitous, using her that way.

 

This was what he did. This was what he was good at. No one even noticed him on the way to the lifts, without Kiyoshi at his side.

 

<Kuroko, we’ve got trouble.>

 

He stopped the lift between floors, not liking the tense quality of Kiyoshi’s voice as it filtered into his head. <What now?>

 

<A transfer order for one of your kids. The captain’s going over it with him right now. Departure in two days.>

 

<To where?> Kuroko asked, even though he knew better.

 

<The afterlife, I’d imagine,> was the lightly delivered reply. <But officially, a station in the Outer Reaches. Even further out than the Yosen base.>

 

<The others?>

 

<If there are orders for them, they haven’t gone through yet. I can only dig so far before I start sending up flags, but if you want…>

 

<No, don’t bother.> If they were after one, they were after them all, as far as Kuroko was concerned. <Which one got the orders?>

 

<Kawahara.>

 

<Keep watching them, please, Kiyoshi.>

 

He made a quiet noise and was gone. Kuroko started the lift back up, controlling his breathing. Just get the files. One step at a time. Get the files, contact Izuki, hand off the files. Tell him that whatever plan they had to get the cadets out had better be ready, and soon.

 

When Kuroko stepped out of the lift, he was nothing but a ghost, a mirage blurring at the edge of peoples’ vision as he passed by.

 

They didn’t call him the Phantom for no reason.

 

Kuroko moved to the darkest part of the room and began searching for anything that might pertain to the dead Auxiliaries. His credentials as a senior Lieutenant should be able to get him fairly far.

 

<Lieutenant Kuroko, please be advised that you are attempting to access restricted files.>

 

 _Tenebris_ almost sounded upset. Kuroko held perfectly still as more people filtered in and out of the room.

 

<I’m just going to assess the data gathered,> he told her steadily, <to see if I can’t find anything different. Something that will explain why you were shutdown with the Auxiliaries. And maybe I can find out _who_ did it. >

 

He keyed in a few more things before hitting a wall. Restricted access.

 

<Tenebris, you want to understand what happened to you, don’t you?> he asked, staring at the red warning on the screen. There was nothing but silence, but he could _feel_ her, the AI attempting to process such a purely human sentiment.

 

The red vanished. Kuroko smiled.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered, copying all of the files he saw to his own records. As he left the room, as quietly and unnoticed as he entered, he heard one of the officers speak, obviously confused.

 

“I thought we shut this one down already? Was someone using this?”

 

“You probably just forgot.”

 

“I could have sworn though…”

 

Kuroko was sweating. He wiped at his face and headed to the lift, still taking care to stay as a ghost.

 

The direct line connected almost immediately, with Izuki, Midorima, and Murasakibara all at once.

 

<Nice work, Phantom,> Izuki praised. <All right, boys, ready to make some noise?>

 

<Wait, Izuki, the cadets I told you about—>

 

<What, that time already?> he asked, slightly more serious.

 

<Yes.>

 

<We can be there by tomorrow night,> Midorima promised.

 

<You know, if you guys are just going to talk instead of doing this, I’m leaving,> Murasakibara said with a yawn.

 

Kuroko was just stepping off the lift to his floor when the alarms started going off. He couldn’t help smiling.

 

“Sounds like they’re having fun,” Kiyoshi commented.

 

Kuroko wished he could share the laughter echoing in his head, the rude commentary Murasakibara was making at the walls and shields meant to keep them from accessing anything within the ship.

 

“They are.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They were able to leave the docking station the next morning, even though the Command official made several comments about it not being safe, after the intruders cracked through the blackout walls.

 

Captain Riko told him, in more polite words, that he was better off sticking to his _investigation_ than sticking his nose in how she ran her ship. But she was upset over the break-in. No one seemed to notice that files had been copied and taken, what with the horrendous mess Kuroko’s friends had left throughout the ship mainframe—viruses that were flashy but didn’t do much damage other than taking up space and prohibiting certain functions.

 

Hyuuga snarled irritably about how the training room glitches he had been trying to solve for four months were mysteriously gone. That one had Midorima’s signature all over it.

 

<Lieutenant Kuroko, please be advised that there is a no roaming curfew currently in effect,> the _Tenebris_ told him urgently. He ignored her. He needed to focus on the cadets, need to focus on getting them off the ship alive and well.

 

<Lieutenant Kuroko, please be advised that there is a no roaming curfew currently in effect,> the _Tenebris_ said, more agitated as he and Kiyoshi kept walking.

 

<There’s something I have to do. I apologize.>

 

“Go get them. I’ll talk to her.” Kiyoshi took a deep breath, squeezed his shoulders once, and dropped his hands. “I’ll wait for you, right here. So come back.”

 

Kuroko didn't know what possible difference it could make, but he thought of how she allowed into files she should never have let him see. He thought of how she seemed to, ever so slightly, play favorites among the officers. Either he wasn't giving artificial intelligence the full credit it deserved, or there was something making the  _Tenebris_ far more human than she should be.

 

It was an effort not to run as he headed to the cadet dormitories.

 

Kawahara’s face was startled when he saw Kuroko after opening the door.

 

“Cadet Kawahara,” Kuroko said, keeping his voice low. “I know this is sudden, but I need you to come with me.”

 

“Come with you? Is there…is something wrong? Is this about training?”

 

“It’s not about your training. It’s about your life.” Kuroko took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, reaching out to touch his arms. “The Captain passed along a transfer order to you recently. But it’s a ploy. If you go where Command asks, you’ll only end up dead.”

 

Kawahara’s jaw dropped, disbelieving. “S-Sir? What are you talking about?”

 

“Please trust me. Please.” Kuroko held tightly to Kawahara, who stared with equal parts fear and confusion. “If you take the transfer order, you’ll die.”

 

“Why would they want to kill me?” he asked, almost a whimper.

 

“I don’t have time to explain. If we’re getting you off this ship, we have to go now. Will you trust me?”

 

Kawahara’s eyes closed tightly. “I will,” he whispered. “I do.”

“Then grab your go-bag and come with me.”

 

<Takao, I hope you’re ready for this.>

 

<Relax! Me and Shin-chan were born ready.> Takao did sound at ease. Perhaps stealing a ship and going against all of Starfleet was not so great a leap from his unsavory roots.

 

<We’re counting on you, then.>

 

<Copy that, Phantom. You get to that airlock and let us handle the rest. Be seeing those pretty blues real soon!>

 

<Takao, get off the line and fly,> Midorima snapped out.

 

<Don’t worry, Shin-chan, it’s _green_ that really strikes my fancy. >

 

The last thing Kuroko heard before the line went still was Takao’s cackling. Kawahara stuck close to him—almost close enough to trip him up, but Kuroko let him stay there. It would be safer to stay close for the time being.

 

“Should we be moving faster?” Kawahara whispered.

 

“It’ll attract more attention.” Kuroko glanced back at him and attempted a smile. “We’ll get you out safely. I promise.”

 

Two more stops to go.

 

With Furihata, he barely had to say a word. The cadet took one frightened look at them and went scrambling for his bag.

 

“Where are we going?” he asked

 

“Somewhere safe.” Safer than the _Tenebris_ was right now, at any rate.

 

Kiyoshi was waiting, exactly where he promised, poised to spring. When he saw them approach, some of the tension melted away but he never lost the battle-ready stance.

 

“Ready?” he asked. The cadets nodded.

 

“We’re headed to the airlock. There could be obstacles between there and where we are now. If we can get there, we’re in the clear. Tenebris is on board with our little operation, so there’ll be no trouble on that end.”

 

Kiyoshi looked to Kuroko. Like so many times before, his expression was unreadable, and expectant. The bracelet on his wrist felt heavy, so heavy. He took a deep breath.

 

“If the worst should happen, you three head to the airlock alone. Let us handle the mess.”

 

“But, sir—”

 

“It’s not up for discussion. Let’s move.”

 

He was not a gambling man. It wasn’t right, to use lives in games where the smallest thing could mean life or death. Kuroko was betting everything on this, though, by placing blind faith in his friends to get him and the others to safety.

 

Was anywhere really safe?

 

“Lieutenant! Stop where you are!”

 

The Captain.

 

“Run,” he told the cadets. When they didn’t move, he shoved them, hard. “ _Run_ ,” he hissed out.

 

They ran.

 

“Kiyoshi, you have to—”

 

But the Auxiliary had faded from sight. His heart clenched. It was better though, that he dealt with her alone.

 

Kuroko turned to face her.

 

“Captain,” he started, but she was _there_ , slamming him up against the wall hard enough to make his head ache, one arm pressed to his chest to hold him still.

 

“Explain to me,” she snarled out, “how those files got out. Explain to me what it is you think you’re doing, when I’ve ordered all off-duty officers to stay roomed you are _running loose_ with cadets looking like you’re going somewhere.”

 

“Respectfully, captain, I don’t know what you’re referring—”

 

She pressed harder.

 

“Don’t insult my intelligence.”

 

“I’m not—”

 

“I can call any number of officers right now to intercept your runaways. I suggest you answer me with the truth.”

 

“Respectfully, captain,” Kuroko said, staring her right in the eyes and staying perfectly still even though her arm was pressed disconcertingly hard against his windpipe, her other hand resting on her gun. “The less you know, the less you have to testify.”

 

The anger slowly bled from her expression. “Good god, Lieutenant,” she said softly. “You really mean that. What have you done?”

 

It wasn’t what he had done but he was about to do.

 

“It’s just Kuroko right now, captain,” he said back. “Sorry about this.”

 

She was out in an instant. Kiyoshi caught her before she could fall and gently lowered her down to the ground.

 

“She’s a good captain,” he said quietly.

 

One of the best.

 

He tried not to feel guilty as he looked away from her. Kiyoshi touched his shoulder lightly and he nodded.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

It didn’t take long to catch up with the cadets, and they were soon sneaking into the docking bay. If there was anyone working, Kuroko didn’t see any sign of them. They still moved slowly, sticking to the edges of the room as they headed to one of the tertiary airlocks.

 

Even when he shut and locked the door behind them, Kuroko couldn’t relax.

 

<We’re here.>

 

<And so are we! Docking in ten seconds.>

 

It felt like longer, waiting there for the airlock to open, trying to catch his breath, trying not to see how afraid the cadets look or notice how closely they all stood to him and Kiyoshi.

 

They both looked exhausted when the doors opened, but Takao grinned—taller than Kuroko remember, his grey eyes even sharper—and Midorima bowed his head slightly in greeting.

 

“Told you we’d be seeing those pretty blues real soon, Phantom.” He looked at the cadets with raised brows. “Nice looking kids you got. Well, c’mon, all aboard. We can’t hang around too long, somebody’s bound to have noticed already.”

 

Midorima was staring not at the cadets but at Kiyoshi, gaze assessing.

 

“He can’t come with us,” Midorima eventually said. “Command can track Auxiliaries anywhere they go.”

 

Kiyoshi just smiled. “I know.”

 

Kuroko hadn’t even considered that. The thought was paralyzing. He had been focused on getting them all out, getting them all to safety. But Kiyoshi must have known, all along that he could not come with them. He had known and not said a word, even though Kuroko had laid out every detail of the plan to him.

 

“Kuroko, come on, we have to get moving.” Takao held out his hand as the cadets looked back uncertainly at the ship they had once called home.

 

If he went with them, he’d be free. No more Auxiliaries, no more missions that brought nothing but pain and death. Nothing but the entirety of space and his old friends together again.

 

No more Kiyoshi.

 

_I can’t._

_Stay with me_ , the memory of his voice whispered, begging, the warm and heavy tendrils of those words encircling his body and rooting him to the floor.

 

_I can’t, I can’t._

 

He saw Furihata mouth his name, heard Takao repeat himself more urgently. Kuroko looked over at Midorima and saw the understanding bloom in his brilliantly green eyes. His fingers brushed the goggles around his neck and he nodded once, tightly, already turning his back.

 

“Come, Takao. Kuroko will not be coming with us today.”

 

“What, but…” he looked desperately between Kuroko and Midorima until he caught sight of Kiyoshi at Kuroko’s side.

 

“I have unfinished business. Please look after them for me.” He would not cry. _I can’t I can’t I can’t._ “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t go dying on us, Phantom,” Takao said grimly, and the airlock doors slammed shut in their faces. The last he saw of them was the fear on his cadets faces, the familiar expanse of Midorima’s back.

 

Kuroko leaned back against the wall, hair plastered down to his skull with sweat. Kiyoshi, other than the bright concern in his features, seemed entirely unaffected, focused on the window view to the outside—the space where Takao and Midorima’s ship had vanished. Gone rogue. A pirate’s ship, almost, only the aim was to save people, not steal cargo.

 

Kuroko was selfishly glad of the thought of Nigou waiting for him back in his room, ever faithful.

 

“You should have gone with them,” Kiyoshi reflected sadly, even though he had not tried to convince him to leave. _He didn’t try to convince me to stay either, this time._

 

“Yes,” Kuroko agreed.

 

“It would have been safer for you.”

 

They brushed shoulders. It was the tertiary airlock so there was much less space, but enough where the closeness they maintained was unnecessary.

 

“I’m safe with you.”

 

“Yes,” Kiyoshi promised.

 

Kuroko’s chest felt tight with more than mere shortness of breath, but he knew, whatever happened, those two would make sure they were safe. And there was that fragile promise nestled between his ribs, light as air. _Your fight is our fight._

 

If he had his Miracles—if he had his Teiko boys, if he had Momoi and Kagami—

 

If he had all of them standing with him, even Central Command felt like an obstacle they could overcome together.

 

“Kiyoshi,” Kuroko began, then stopped. To catch his breath, he lied to himself. The truth had a lot to do with fear, and Kuroko had had his fill of being afraid. Kiyoshi turned those soft brown eyes on him. His hair _had_ grown longer, somehow, he noted idly.

 

“Did you kill the Emperor?”

 

Kiyoshi smiled and it was cold and hard and paralyzing.

 

“I did.”

 

Kuroko’s thoughts fizzed away, a thin layer of carbonation dissipating into air. Rather than afraid, he felt empty. It was as was predicted, as was expected. Who was to say the universe would be better had the Emperor not been killed and Command not risen to power when it did? And if it hadn’t been Kiyoshi, it may have easily been someone else. It was all a great and terrible coincidence.

 

But it had been Kiyoshi. No if’s. No misinterpretation.

 

Kiyoshi had overthrown the entire government from the last century, had been the turning point that created the world they all knew and lived in, and Kuroko didn’t feel a damn thing.

 

“That’s why you’re back, isn’t it? To kill someone?”

 

“Probably.” For all that he hadn’t moved from where he stood, Kiyoshi and the tension roiling off him dominated the airlock. They shouldn’t linger here like this. “There are spaces in my head. Gaps in my programming and memories where I’m not allowed to go.”

 

“Are you going to kill me?” Kuroko wasn’t sure where that question came from. Morbid curiosity, an effort to reestablish the balance between them.

 

Kiyoshi was looming, a bare handful of centimeters away in the time it took Kuroko to blink.

 

“Never.”

 

“You can’t promise that.”

 

“It’s more than a promise. I swear it on my life.” Kuroko bit his lip to keep from laughing, because it was cruel, the thought he had, cruel to think that such a promise from a man who was neither alive nor dead meant very little indeed. “My word is my bond. I’ll never hurt you. Never.”

 

There were any number of painless ways to die, any number of ways he could be unintentionally hurt, but Kuroko couldn’t help but to believe him.

 

Kiyoshi let out a breathless laugh. “You know, we’re going to be in a lot of trouble,” he said, leaning down until their foreheads almost touched. Kuroko felt on fire, resisting the urge to touch or maybe just to melt into what he knew would be a welcoming embrace. "Not just with the captain. Command doesn't like having things stolen from them."

 

“Yes,” Kuroko agreed. “We are.”

 

“Are you afraid?”

 

“Not anymore.”

 

Not with the cadets gone, not now that he only had his own life on the line. His and Kiyoshi’s. There would be hell to pay; aiding and abetting a thief, stealing cadets from the fleet and sending them off with people who would soon be labeled criminals for stealing a ship and abandoning their positions, assaulting a superior officer.

 

But there were answers to be found. Lives had been saved today.

 

Someone pounded on the locked doors, yelling for them to open up. Kuroko could hear the telltale sounds of weaponry being handled on the other side.

 

"No," Kuroko decided, feeling more steady this time. He looked up into Kiyoshi's dark eyes, far too close, deep enough to drown in--and here he was, willingly throwing himself in. Maybe they would be shot. Maybe they would be imprisoned. There were a lot of uncertainties now, more than ever. "I'm not afraid of them."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (humbly suggests listening to Dark Star by Jaymes Young for an extra dose of kiyokuro feels)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Manifest

Lockup on the _Tenebris_ was nicer than he expected. Kuroko remembered the cells at Teiko as dark and cramped, always smelling faintly of some mixture of blood and cheap alcohol.

 

Here, except for the seamless metal wall at his back, there was nothing but space to stare at. It was only a projection; beneath the image the walls would be plain, but it was startlingly real. If he stared for too long, he had the sickening sensation of falling, weightlessly, into the cold embrace of the stars.

 

“Does it still hurt?” Kiyoshi asked, hand hovering near his neck. The spot where the tranquilizer shot had struck still throbbed, but it was a distant, niggling pain.

 

“I’m fine,” he assured him. “You keep asking. I’m fine.”

 

Kiyoshi’s hand dropped. “I’m sorry. But you did give me permission to worry as much as I like.”

 

_“Step away from the Lieutenant, Auxiliary!”_

_Kiyoshi stayed exactly where he was, firmly planted in front of Kuroko with his arms spread as if he would try to block out the whole world, if need be. And Kuroko couldn’t bring himself to feel afraid._

_“Step away now, or I will open fire! That’s an order!”_

_“Go ahead, soldier,” Kiyoshi snapped out. There was real anger there, to Kuroko’s surprise. “Do your worst. But if you put one single scratch on him, you’ll pay for it dearly.”_

_“Kiyoshi, don’t,” Kuroko said, gripping the back of his uniform, feeling the muscles beneath coiled tight like metal springs. “We can’t fight them.”_

 

“There are many things I regret,” Kuroko muttered, half to himself, pulling his gaze away from the stars. He still felt a bit like he was falling, like if he stood from the hard cot they were seated on—what felt like a glorified expanse of raised metal with a sheet stretched over top—there would be no floor to meet him.

 

It was not so much a frightening thought as the idea that falling was inevitable.

 

“What, like staying with me?”

 

“Don’t be stupid.” Kuroko punched him in the arm, hard, but all Kiyoshi did was smile. “We’re connected, you and I. Aren’t you the one always saying that?”

 

Kiyoshi laughed. “Ah, but you said it first, this time. Even though it used to make you so mad. Should I count that as a victory?”

 

_Kiyoshi fell._

_There was no gunfire, but Kiyoshi fell._

_His giant body, which had always seemed so immovable, so dependable, went boneless and he fell—Kuroko couldn’t swallow the sour-tasting panic, barely recognizing his own voice shouting Kiyoshi’s name—he tried to catch him, but he was too heavy and he fell—_

_Kuroko could at least stop him from hitting his head._

_“Lieutenant, step away from the Auxiliary—”_

_“Lower your weapon, Lieutenant!”_

_There was no memory of pulling his gun, only the weight of it in his hands, steady hands, but his voice was shaking_ you can’t have him

 

“Kuroko?”

 

_“We’ll have to wipe his ports,” one of them said in disgust and even though Kuroko was fading fast, he felt the cold plummet of despair, the rise of a scream in a throat that would not obey him. Kuroko forced his eyes open, thankful he had fallen so close, so he could look one last time at Kiyoshi while he was still_ his _Kiyoshi._

_He didn’t have a plan, aside from not leaving him. Maybe that was why this was happening now._

_“You can’t do that.”_

_It was the voice of the Command officer._

_“Excuse me?”_

_“That Auxiliary is under special protection from Central Command. Nobody touches anything in its head without proper authorization, which none of you possess. And you had best hope you didn’t damage anything_ valuable _by short-circuiting it so crudely.”_

_Even though they were going to use Kiyoshi form something terrible, Kuroko felt sickeningly grateful in that moment._

_The last thing Kuroko heard before the tranq took him under was someone asking if the protection extended to Kuroko._

_It didn’t matter._

_Don’t take him away, not now._

_The last thing Kuroko saw was not Kiyoshi’s face but instead the ghostly apparition of Ogiwara leaning over him._

“Kuroko?”

 

Kiyoshi’s hand closed over where Kuroko’s hand was curled over the aching spot on his neck.

 

“I don’t do well with anesthetics,” he admitted, wishing that was all it was. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“You can sleep some more. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

 

“It’s yourself you should be worried about.”

 

Kuroko felt entranced by the false starlight on his skin, how Kiyoshi’s fingers shyly strayed up the curve of his ear and into the strands of his hair. His thumb delicately grazed his cheek and Kuroko was breathless with it, anticipation threading through him.

 

Kiyoshi pulled away, retreating back to safer boundaries, presenting Kuroko with a barely visible eyelash on the pad of his thumb.

 

“Make a wish,” he said, his voice strangely hoarse.

 

Kuroko could think of nothing but a plea to whoever might be listening for them to both make it out of this place, safely. And together.

 

With a soft puff of air, the eyelash was airborne and out of sight.

 

“You’re not going to ask what I wished for?” Kuroko asked after a moment.

 

“It might not come true, if you tell me,” Kiyoshi replied softly, bumping their shoulders together.

 

Kuroko sighed through his nose. “I wouldn’t have told you,” he retorted. “Even if you did ask.”

 

Kiyoshi smiled, a slow expression that grew brighter when he looked down at Kuroko. “Yes. I know.”

 

There didn’t seem to be anything more to say. Kuroko fastidiously pulled the sleeves of his uniform straight, stretching it tight so he could see the bulk of the bracelet beneath before releasing it. And it was invisible then. Like it had never been.

 

“Can I tell you something?” Kiyoshi said, not quite a question.

 

“Anything.”

 

“I care for you. Not because I have to as your Auxiliary. I just do.” He smiled, tired and quizzical. “You know that, right?”

 

Kuroko couldn’t speak.

 

Kiyoshi looked away to the view of the false stars. His body burned hot enough that the cold of the room barely touched Kuroko.

 

“Wherever you go, whatever path you choose, Kuroko. I’m yours.”

 

The responsibility of his heart was too much to bear. _I care for you too, more than I should, more than I thought I ever could._

 

“You don’t belong to anyone, Kiyoshi,” he said quietly. No human did, but those words weren’t something he needed to hear. Kiyoshi sucked in a breath of air he didn’t need.

 

“Thank you,” he said simply. He reached over and rested his hand, fleetingly, on Kuroko’s leg. When he pulled away, that spot was cold in comparison. “I’m not certain that’s been true for a while. But thank you.”

 

_“Lower you weapon, Lieutenant!”_

_“He’s lost it, just shoot—”_

 

“Kiyoshi.” Kuroko thought about touching him, more than casual way they sat so close together. He didn’t. There was a vague thought, that perhaps because of the severity of what they had done they were being watched while they were in here. It was probably only _Tenebris_ who had her eyes on them, not that it made it better. “I’m glad you’re with me.”

 

Before Kiyoshi could respond, Kuroko’s head was ringing with alerts along his direct line. His temples burned, pressure building behind his eyes even though it only took a matter of seconds to connect.

 

<Do you have any idea how long I’ve been trying to contact you?> Kagami half-yelled, his voice strained and heavy with anxiety. <You _idiot._ I don’t care what kind of business you have, you should have been on that damn ship with your cadets. >

 

<Kagami—>

 

<Don’t pull out that tone! This is—even for _you_ this is ridiculous. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself all the time, don’t you get that? There was no need— >

 

<Shut up, Kagami. Yelling at Tetsu isn’t going to change anything,> Momoi sighed out. <Tetsu, this is going to make it harder, but we can still get you out, okay? Akashi and I will work on a plan so—>

 

<Please don’t,> Kuroko interrupted.

 

<Tetsu, it’s okay, we can do it—>

 

<Please don’t,> he repeated louder. <You’re misunderstanding my decision.>

 

<Then explain it,> Kagami snapped, <because whatever bullshit excuse you told Midorima doesn’t cut it.>

 

Kuroko opened his eyes. They sounded close enough to touch and it was throwing him off. He focused instead on the light splaying across his uniform, on the way Kiyoshi’s thigh brushed against him. It didn’t help, but it was something else.

 

<As an Auxiliary, Kiyoshi can be tracked anywhere he goes,> he said after gathering his composure.

 

There was a moment of silence over the line.

 

<You should have left him there,> Aomine stated bluntly.

 

<Dai-chan! How can you say that after—> Momoi cut herself off, unwilling to speak Ogiwara’s name and bring up old pains. Kuroko forgot, sometimes, that they had all been friends with Ogiwara too. Not in the same way the two of them had been, but they knew him. They knew the before and the after.

 

Kuroko was tired of resisting the urge to take Kiyoshi’s hand. _Shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t._ He clenched his hands into fists to keep them in his lap, where they belonged. _Now is not the time._

 

<I won’t apologize for what I did,> Kuroko said evenly. <It was my decision to make.>

 

<An _idiotic decision_ ,> Kagami growled out.

 

Kuroko let out a breath. The volatile nature of the conversation made it hard to keep it only internal. <If that’s all you called for—>

 

<Tetsu, please just tell us you have _some_ idea of what you’re doing. We’re not going to stand by and watch you be taken away. > Momoi’s voice was quietly pleading, but there was an edge of steel behind it.

 

He didn’t. Not even the slightest of ideas, not a ghost of a clue.

 

<We’ll think of something.>

 

<And if the worst should happen—>

 

<You will know. I promise.>

 

The call ended as abruptly as it started. The cold silence of the room was oppressive, the stars too bright and too many.

 

“All’s well?” Kiyoshi asked neutrally.

 

“My friends. Yes.”

 

“They disapprove of me.”

 

“No.” Kuroko wasn’t certain about that. “They disapprove of my choice.”

 

In a movement so fluid and natural Kuroko barely had time to register it, Kiyoshi gently pulled at one of his tightly fisted hands until it loosened and held it. It felt natural, to be touched so. The gentle squeeze he gave, the brush of his thumb against his skin. Kuroko inhaled. Exhaled. He leaned his head against Kiyoshi’s waiting arm and closed his eyes.

 

“They think,” Kuroko continued, the words easier to say now, “that I’m going to die for this.”

 

He felt more than heard Kiyoshi’s sharp inhale. His muscles tensed momentarily, his grip on Kuroko’s hand tightened.

 

“I won’t let that happen.”

 

_I know._

“I’m sorry, Kiyoshi.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“I don’t think…” he had to stop. Kuroko breathed in deep. Kiyoshi smelled warm and faintly sweet beneath the more metallic scent of his body. “I don’t think we’ll be able to see Earth together after all.”

 

Kiyoshi didn’t say anything, for long enough that Kuroko was tempted to give into the residual pull of the tranq to fall back asleep.

 

“Time will tell, Kuroko. Only time.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kuroko had assumed the waiting would the worst of it, but he was wrong.

 

It was this, it was the endless stream of questions; the look of distrust and anger in the eyes of the crew who watched him be marched past. It was the perfectly blank look on Izuki’s face, and Mitobe’s hurt expression. It was being told that Nigou had been placed in lockup after snapping at the officers who tried to take care of him.

 

It was his captain’s fury.

 

“You couldn’t actually think that you would get away with this. So what exactly,” she leaned forward towards him, glaring, “was so important that you risked your life and career for it?”

 

_Their lives._

“I’m afraid I can’t answer—”

 

“But you _can._ You know something. You just won’t tell me.”

 

Kuroko didn’t bother with a denial. He was too tired for that, and she might be able to tell anyway. Riko ran a hand through her hair.

 

“I thought it was going to be a good thing, having you back, Kuroko. You’re too good an officer to waste on planet-side. When the order came in, I was glad.” She jabbed a finger towards him. “I was going to _promote_ you. You were doing good things on the ship. And then _this._ It doesn’t add up, Kuroko. Nothing about this adds up. Is this some kind of petty revenge, for being give a new Auxiliary? Even you’re not crazy enough to try that.”

 

“Have I been deemed crazy, captain?” he asked neutrally.

 

For an unnerving moment, his world was only the rapid calculation deep in her eyes, the set line of her mouth.

 

“That’s Medical’s call to make,” she bit out. “Not mine.”

 

“Am I being sent to Medical?”

 

“They’re reviewing your psych evals. Whether or not they find anything is yet to be seen, but I doubt it. You’re a good liar, Kuroko, too good to be trusted.”

 

Kuroko nodded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. It stung, but he could bear it.

 

“How did you access those files?”

 

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that question, captain.”

 

“Where did you send them?”

 

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that question, captain.”

 

“Your accomplices, then, you have people on the outside. Their names. Do they work for the Fleet?”

 

“I’m afraid I can’t—”

 

“For pities sake, Kuroko!” Riko slammed her palm against the table, hard enough that the entire thing trembled. “We’re on the same side! If you tell me, I can _help you_ out of this mess you’ve made!”

 

Kuroko stayed silent at that, subtly pulling at the shackles that held him, more out of restlessness than the expectation that he could break free.

 

“Why. Will you answer that for me? Why?”

 

He lifted his head but found he could not meet her gaze. Kuroko settled for looking at her shoulders. Narrow but strong. Still large enough to carry the weight of the crew’s expectations and not break.

 

“I’m afraid,” he said, his voice a thin thread, “I can’t answer that question, captain.”

 

Riko hissed out a breath and fell silent for several long minutes. He kept track of the time, tapping his fingertips together with the seconds, until he could bear to look at her again without feeling the crushing weight of her disappointment in him.

 

“How’s your head?” Kuroko asked her quietly. She looked up at him, bristling with all her sharp edges, with all her frustration at _not knowing._

 

“That’s really what you’re going to ask me right now?”

 

It was not, perhaps, the wisest of things to say but she was his captain. There had been no other way, but Kuroko still wished the circumstances had been different—he tried to imagine telling her the truth, the whole truth, but instead of the hopeful, powerful image of her righteous fury, her call to arms, Kuroko could only see Ogiwara’s body in his arms, the mangled shells of the Auxiliaries—

 

He couldn’t let it touch her. That blood, that horror. He couldn’t let it touch the _Tenebris_ anymore than it already had. Riko could think whatever she wanted of him as long as she stayed alive.

 

“Yes,” he said simply.

 

“I’ve already forgiven you for that.” She drummed her fingers once on her desk, frowning intently at him. “Don’t get me wrong, Kuroko, I’m pissed and you’re in more trouble than I care to contemplate. But I know you. You don’t do things needlessly.”

 

Kuroko swallowed hard, unable to hold her gaze. _This, too, is my team._

 

“Thank you, captain.”

 

“Don’t thank me just yet. I’ve got no choice but to hand you over to the mercy of Command, thanks to that stunt you pulled.” He heard her let out a sigh. “Tell me something, Kuroko. Tell me those cadets are safe. Surely you can answer _that._ ”

 

They were safer than any of them were, certainly.

 

“Yes, captain.”

 

“One more thing. Look at me.” Projecting nothing but serenity and a desire to blend into the anonymity of the shadows in the room, he forced his head back up. “The Tenebris willfully corrupted its own files to erase you, your Auxiliary, and the cadets from view. And whoever else was working with you. Willfully, Kuroko. There are no records of what happened that night, not a trace. What did you do to the AI?”

 

Kiyoshi must have asked her to protect them. Kuroko’s throat was tight with a surge of fondness for the ship.

 

“Nothing, captain.”

 

“Do you understand what I’m saying? It sabotaged itself. It put itself at incredible risk to break its prime directive of following the orders of its captain and Command. You can’t tell me that was _nothing—_ ”

 

“I asked her for help.”

 

Perhaps he should not have said it, but he had been interrogated by the Command officer for hours before reaching this point. Kiyoshi had been left behind in lockup, deemed too dangerous to be allowed out, even shackled and under surveillance as Kuroko was.

 

“You asked…” Riko hesitated, off-balance, “…her.”

 

There was a sharp rap at the door. Kuroko stood, trying to ignore the look in Riko’s eyes that was hungry for more information than he could give. More information than he really had.

 

“If that’s all captain, I believe I am meant to return now.”

Riko exhaled through her nose but waved him off. His balance felt off, with the shackles keeping his hands locked in front of him, but he did his best to walk normally on his way out. The guards were waiting for him just outside the door, antsy and refusing to look directly at him.

 

<Thank you, Tenebris. Thank you.>

 

She didn’t say anything to him, but Kuroko had the strangest feeling that she was pleased.

 

He was no longer invisible, not after everything that had happened, nor with the reluctant guards tailing him. It wouldn’t have been so terrible if people weren’t noticing him just because they thought he was a traitor to the ship.

 

_They’re alive. That’s worth anything._ Kuroko swallowed hard as they moved past a group of officers he had seen on the bridge, all glaring. _Anything._

 

The First Officer approached from the opposite direction and halted their progress.

 

“I’ll take it from here, officers. You may return to your posts.”

 

“But sir—”

 

Hyuuga’s frown deepened. “That was not a suggestion. I’ll escort the prisoner back.”

 

The _prisoner._ That’s what he was now. It had a strange ring to it, knowing that it applied to him. Kuroko observed Hyuuga but he remained straight-faced, watching the officers leave.

 

“Walk,” he eventually said, spinning on his heel and striding down the hall without bothering to check if Kuroko followed. Perhaps the rumor that he could see through the back of his own head was true.

 

But Kuroko would have followed regardless. Even if there had been somewhere to run to, some chance of escape, Kuroko had decided to stay with Kiyoshi. Either they found a way out together, or not at all.

 

As soon as Kuroko caught up sufficiently, Hyuuga spoke.

 

“You know, if you were going to pull this kind of shit, you could have left your damn dog where he belongs.”

 

It didn’t feel like something that needed a response, though Kuroko wanted to say that Nigou belonged with _him._ Hyuuga scoffed at his continued silence and walked faster.

 

When they reached the door to their cell, Hyuuga slammed his palm against the scanner impatiently.

 

“In,” he ordered unnecessarily when the door slid open. Kuroko eyed him warily but stepped inside, a knot of tension releasing in his chest when he saw Kiyoshi rising off the cot to join him. Hyuuga stepped side too, unlocking Kuroko’s shackles with a slide of his thumb.

 

“It should be unforgiveable, what you did,” he said lowly, eyes boring through him as he slid the shackles through one of his belt loops.

 

“Sir,” Kuroko said simply, not certain to which thing he had done that was supposedly so unforgiveable. It could have been anything.

 

Obviously it was not the correct thing to say, because Hyuuga grabbed the front of his uniform and hauled Kuroko close, teeth baring in a silent growl. Kiyoshi was by his side by then, poised to interfere but hesitating.

 

“Don’t even think for an instant, _Lieutenant,_ ” he snarled, hand fisted in his shirt and his mechanical eyes wide and unblinking, “that I’ll forget what you did to Riko. I’ll forgive you because she has, but I _will never forget this._ ”

 

“That’s enough, Hyuuga,” Kiyoshi said quietly, laying a restraining hand on his arm.

 

“Don’t touch me, you damn robot,” he hissed out, but he let go. Kiyoshi didn’t even flinch at his words. The First Officer glared at them both for a few moments more before marching away like a man with murder on his mind. The door slid shut close on Hyuuga’s heels, too fast to get through even if escape had been on their minds.

 

“Are you hurt?” Kiyoshi asked, pulling Kuroko’s uniform straight, his hand pressing lightly where Hyuuga had grabbed him, unnervingly close to his throat.

 

“Are you?” Kuroko countered. Kiyoshi smiled faintly. His fingers brushed the bare patch of skin above his collar before pulling away.

 

“I’m fine as long as you are, Kuroko.” He said it like it was an obvious thing—something so natural even a child would know.

 

Kuroko exhaled. “I’m not hurt.” Not where it could be seen. Kiyoshi took his hand like he had before, a slow curl of his fingers against Kuroko’s.

 

“Tenebris corrupted her files for us. Did you ask her to do that?” Kuroko asked him.

 

His surprise was genuine.

 

“No,” he replied. “I only asked that she look into her conscience and decide the best course of action for herself.”

 

It was far too human a sentiment for any AI, no matter how advanced, to comprehend, surely. And yet she had done just that, and here they were—the living proof that a robot could go against its most foundational of programming and make its own choices.

 

Kuroko should have been afraid, maybe, but she had saved them. They could ask all the questions they wanted, but with no further evidence, there was nothing more to be done.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The mercy of Command, as it turned out, was a quick-moving beast.

 

Only a few hours passed before they were being escorted to the docks to be sent away to Central Command’s headquarters, along with the Command officer.

 

Only Kuroko’s refusal to leave the prison cell until they answered his questions got him an answer about Nigou’s fate. Izuki had apparently agreed to keep him until Kuroko’s official sentence was decided.

 

He didn’t feel any better about it, but it was better than nothing.

 

The walk seemed short today, to reach the docks.

 

“Kuroko,” Kiyoshi nudged him gently, nodding towards something in the distance, even though their guards snapped out a nervous order not to speak.

 

He had seen them enough where they were recognizable on sight.

 

The three Auxiliaries turned their heads as soon as Kuroko stepped into the room, their gazes fixed on him and Kiyoshi intently. Even all the way across the room, it was easy to see how they stood in perfect unison, saluting—ignoring the increasingly annoyed and alarmed voice of the officer watching them to sit back down.

 

<Lieu…tenant…>

 

It was barely a whisper, a soft rustling in his head. But Kuroko heard. The guard behind him nudged him when he stopped, but Kuroko ignored the press of the gun to his spine.

 

<Orders…Lieutenant?> came the sighing question.

 

Kuroko swallowed hard, doing his best to salute them back formally while being pushed forward.

 

<At ease, Auxiliaries.> As an afterthought, he added, <You’ve done well.>

 

“Move,” the officer said pointedly, sounding more nervous than angry.

 

“Ease up,” Kiyoshi said, carefully pushing the gun away from Kuroko. “We’re moving.”

 

“No one asked _you_ , Auxiliary.”

 

Kuroko started walking again, promising he would not forget their faces. He shifted, subtly, closer to Kiyoshi. Close enough to touch, if he dared.

 

He did not, but the potential was comforting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The shuttle ride to the ship that would return them to headquarters was silent but for the Command officer’s complaint about the stuffiness. Kuroko craned his neck to get a better look back at the _Tenebris_. Seeing her from the outside, she seemed so vast, so unshakeable.

 

She looked more like home than the moon he was raised on, than even his beloved planet-side dwelling.

 

Kiyoshi did not look back, but Kuroko could feel his eyes on him.

 

Kiyoshi, too, felt a lot like home.

 

Kuroko did not look at him.

 

They were soon hustled onto the ship where it did not matter anyway.

 

The cell they were afforded was just a room—much smaller than his room on the _Tenebris_ , but outfitted with a real bed and a bathroom. With a warning about armed guards and a door that would explode in their faces if they attempted to break out, Kuroko and Kiyoshi were locked within.

 

“Getting in trouble with the law is a lot more dull than I figured,” Kiyoshi mused, taking stock of their new prison. “Though I suppose if it was fun, everyone would be doing it.”

 

“I think you’re underestimating peoples’ ability to be self-destructive.”

 

“And is this you being self-destructive?”

 

Kuroko liked to think that it wasn’t true, but he couldn’t be certain it wasn’t a contributing factor.

 

“When I self-destruct, it will be more interesting than being locked in a cell,” Kuroko tried to joke. “There will be explosives. Fireworks. You’ll see it around for miles.”

 

Kiyoshi’s smile was everything soft and sad and everything he could not bear to see. Kuroko lined up his shoes neatly before curling up on the bed with his back to the room.

 

_If the both of us must die, then at least let us go together._

 

The bed dipped down under Kiyoshi’s weight as he stretched out beside Kuroko with a sigh. He did not even pretend at keeping a respectable distance, fitting himself behind Kuroko until all it would take was one of them moving a little back or a little forward and their bodies would fit together.

 

“I’ve always been partial to blue,” Kiyoshi said, breath stirring Kuroko’s hair.

 

“What?”

 

“Fireworks,” he clarified. “I like the blue ones.”

 

Kuroko closed his eyes.

 

Kuroko moved back, pressing against the broad expanse of Kiyoshi’s chest, his long legs slotting neatly into the space behind his. Kiyoshi wordlessly draped one arm securely over him.

 

“How long do we have?”

 

“Long enough for you to sleep.”

 

Kuroko didn’t think he could.

 

“We’ll survive this,” Kuroko decided, fiddling with his bracelet. He had survived everything else so far. Maybe his purpose in life was to be as improbable as possible.

 

“That was never in question. I won’t let them hurt you, not anybody.” He loosely grabbed Kuroko’s hand to stop his fidgeting, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’ve got plenty of living left to do. I’m old. I know these things.”

 

“Stop trying to act so wise. You were asleep for most of your life, that doesn’t count for anything.”

 

Kiyoshi stopped breathing momentarily, only to laugh quietly. “I was, wasn’t I? Does that make me a time-traveler?”

 

“It doesn’t make you anything. You’re _you_. Just not as old as you like to act.”

 

Kiyoshi was exactly as old as he acted. But he laughed again at Kuroko’s words and Kuroko felt relaxed enough to smile at the wall he faced and close his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They were hustled off the ship and onto the behemoth of a station that contained Central Command’s headquarters without even seeing another person but for their escort.

 

They were handed off by their guards to a silver-suited officer whose smile was both pleasant and false.

 

<The security in this place is unbelievable,> Kiyoshi said in awe as the woman asked them to follow her. <I don’t think a single tangerine could get in or out without somebody knowing it.>

 

That didn’t bode well for them. <We are considerably larger than tangerines, Kiyoshi.>

 

Kuroko was, however, grateful for the lack of shackles. Even if he was unarmed and had no real hope of escape or means of defense, having his hands free at least made him feel more himself.

 

“Excuse me, officer,” he asked politely as they stopped at a lift. The other officers he saw were also in nothing but silver, their Auxiliaries in a deeper, matte grey. “Where are we going?”

 

“You’re currently aboard station Alpha EV3, on the lower docking level,” she began as though she had an entire manual memorized. Perhaps that was her duty—a tour guide for the damned. “We refer to the AI as Eve. Due to your circumstances,” her polite smile stretched wider and never reached her indifferent gaze, “you will be unable to interface with Eve. We are headed to the upper levels, which contain the offices of high-ranking officers and Fleet ambassadors.”

 

The lift was plain and featureless inside, with no place to key in floors, but the moment the doors shut, the woman touched her palm to a section of the wall. It glowed briefly and the lift took off, its movement barely perceptible.

 

“All travel between floors is restricted to those with authorized access, so should be become separated from your escort, you’ll find yourself unable to move between floors. Please ask the nearest officer for assistance should this occur.”

 

A prettily veiled threat; a dagger lying beneath a thin veneer of gossamer. _If you run, we will find you, and you won’t like what happens when we do._

 

“Of course,” Kuroko murmured agreeably.

 

The lift doors opened and she led them onwards. The halls were shockingly white, pristine and well-light, full of more silver-clad officers walking briskly. Kuroko felt very much like a swath of shadow cast on the snow in his Fleet black.

 

Their escort stopped before one of the featureless doors, no different than any of the others they had passed, and opened it with an absent press of her hand. She bowed slightly and gestured for them to enter.

 

“This is the waiting room. Please have a seat inside. You’ll be called when it’s time.”

 

“Time for what?” Kuroko asked, thankful for Kiyoshi’s presence right at his side. It was a spacious room, at least, and there were several other people inside so it wasn’t likely to be a trap.

 

“You’ll be called when it’s time, Lieutenant,” she repeated with no change in inflection. “I hope you enjoy your time aboard Eve.”

 

There was nothing else to do but step into the waiting room. The doors slid noiselessly shut behind them with a strange sense of finality. Heads turned as Kuroko and Kiyoshi slowly made their way towards the seating nearest the windows, looking a bit longer than strictly polite.

 

True to its name, it was a room for waiting. Time had little meaning with nothing but furniture and the stars to look at. Kuroko counted his breaths to hold onto his composure. Across from him, Kiyoshi looked unmoved. When he saw him looking his way, his lips curved up into a wider, reassuring smile.

 

Whatever happened next, they could still face it together.

 

Kuroko just wished that whatever was going to happen would _happen._ The waiting was maddening, and he was not nearly as patient as he acted.

 

An officer approached them after some unremarkable stretch of time went by.

 

“Would you like some tea?” the man asked, a bit snide, obviously a bit put out at having to serve what must appear like a no-name officer from a backwater planet and his AI companion. Kuroko knew he was being addressed—they all knew, everyone in the room knew that Kuroko alone was being addressed. But the lack of respect both to him as well as Kiyoshi was a slight Kuroko didn’t feel obligated to let slide. He stayed silent and motionless, still gazing out the window at the vast expanse beyond.

 

Seated in the only other chair available across from him, Kiyoshi shifted, just slightly, lips twitching a little further up than usual in a nearly imperceptible conveyance of amusement.

 

The man cleared his throat slightly. Kuroko steadfastly stared out the window, far less amused than he was annoyed.

 

“Lieutenant, would you care for some tea?” came the words at last, stiffly formal. Kuroko turned to him at last, expression carefully bland.

 

“No, that won’t be necessary. Kiyoshi, would you care for some tea?”

 

The man’s back went stiffer still, nostrils flaring. There was something like gratitude in Kiyoshi’s warm eyes.

 

“That won’t be necessary,” he said gravely, inclining his head politely at a halfway point between Kuroko and the cadet. “Thank you.”

 

The cadet bowed, shallow and barely polite, and stalked away.

 

It was an effort not to laugh, especially when Kiyoshi shot him another conspiratorial glance.

 

<That was rude,> he chided through the adapter, right into Kuroko’s head. He rolled his shoulders in a subtle shrug.

 

<To him, perhaps,> he replied back through the same channel, and was rewarded with the warm bubble of laughter directly in his ear, watching Kiyoshi casually lift a hand to cover his mouth; there was no concealing the crinkling of his eyes, though.

 

Less the fifteen minutes later, by Kiyoshi’s count, the cadet returned with the coldly delivered news that they would be seen now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“My, my, is this the one everyone’s been talking about?” a drawling voice said. The cadet went tense as a figure stepped out from a door Kuroko hadn’t noticed. His hair matched the neat uniform he wore—black.

 

A bloom of relief opened hopefully in Kuroko’s chest.

 

“General,” the cadet said, obviously nervous. “I was just escorting the Lieutenant—”

 

“Yes, and a fine job you’re doing, cadet. But you know, I think I’d like to have a little chat with the Lieutenant here. You can go back to your post.”

 

“S-Sir, he’s supposed to be seen by—”

 

“Come now, cadet,” he said with a gentle smile, something poisonous about the way he shaped his words, “I’m sure there are plenty of people eagerly awaiting their tea.”

 

The cadet bristled at his words, but after shooting Kuroko and Kiyoshi a furious glance, he bowed and walked briskly away.

 

“You’re a small thing, aren’t you?” the general mused, looking him over, before moving aside and waving them into his office. “In you go, the both of you. I’ve been wondering about a few things; perhaps you can enlighten me.”

 

Kuroko and Kiyoshi glanced at each other, but there was nothing to be done but to step inside the office.

 

There were two chairs across from the plain desk that the general sat himself behind comfortably. He smiled faintly, head tilted in a way that reminded Kuroko of a predator. He carried himself with elegance, filling out his uniform like he was born to it.

 

“There’s no need to stand on ceremony, Lieutenant. Not all generals are as stiff as people make them out to be.” His smile widened as Kuroko and Kiyoshi both relaxed their stance. “My name is Imayoshi. I’m told the two of you caused quite the disturbance aboard the Tenebris. Stealing classified information. Launching three very promising cadets off the grid. Attacking your captain.”

 

He clicked his tongue. Whether his disappointment was feigned or real, Kuroko could not tell, but everything about the man was starting to set his nerves on edge.

 

“And I suppose it’s entirely coincidental that at the same time you were doing such a _remarkable_ job of ruining your otherwise spotless record, that your former teammates all across the galaxy up and vanished.”

 

Kuroko’s heart lurched in his chest. _Vanished?_ Midorima and Takao certainly would have plunged into invisibility, but the others had made no mention of doing anything other than continuing as they had been. Surely they would have told him.

 

“Sir,” he replied, mostly truthful, “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about. My actions were mine and mine alone.”

 

“Remarkable. Truly remarkable.” Imayoshi propped his chin in one hand, still grinning. “You know, Kuroko—I may call you Kuroko, yes? I feel as though I know you already—you have this uncanny skill of pretending that I don’t exist. You can look straight through a person like you don’t see them at all.”

 

Kuroko carefully met his gaze. Those barely open eyes were docilely menacing behind thin, tinted polycarb lenses. He recognized them from seeing the glasses on many older Fleet veterans—eyes made irreparably over-sensitized to light from over-exposure to radiation from the old grenade charge designs. The eyes could be removed, replaced with mechanical ones like Hyuuga had, but there were always complications that could arise. Many officers chose the lenses, even if they could afford replacements.

 

Less expensive. Less…messy.

 

“Sir,” Kuroko said smoothly, letting his eyes drop to the safer region near his chin. “I’m not certain what you mean.”

 

“Remarkable,” he said yet again. “You can do it even when you’re speaking to me. Is it an acquired skill, I wonder? You’ll have to teach me. And _you_ , now. You’re rather far away from home, aren’t you?”

 

This was spoken directly to Kiyoshi, who barely hesitated before replying.

 

“Earth is quite a ways off,” he said, nothing but pleasant. “But my place is with—the Lieutenant.” There was only the barest of pauses, where he nearly said _Kuroko_ instead of his title, but Imayoshi still caught it.

 

Kuroko couldn’t help wondering what his first name would sound like falling from Kiyoshi’s lips, how he might shape the syllables of _Tetsuya_ , if he would smile when he said it. If his eyes would be as warm as they had been those hours they spent in lockup.

 

“Please, we’re all friends here. Let’s do away with the titles for now.”

 

“If I may ask, sir,” Kuroko ventured, “what have we been called here for?”

 

The general made a soft hum in his throat and gestured to the chairs before his desk. “For the moment, nothing at all. Have a seat, I’m going to strain my neck looking up at you. Ah, would you like some tea? I understand you refused earlier, but I keep the good stuff in supply.”

 

Imayoshi had slid to his feet and was fetching cups before either of them could refuse again. Kuroko sat, listening to him putter around, while Kiyoshi kept his feet until Imayoshi returned with the tea, only then sitting down.

 

“I always did have a marked interest in your generation of trainees. Teiko always turns out astounding officers, but your graduating class—well, I suppose I may as well say, you and the other so-called _Miracle_ students always had my particular attention.”

 

Kuroko braced himself for what was sure to come next. He had heard it enough times for it to longer sting so much. _I never understood why you were grouped with them_ or _I had no idea you were even there._

 

“You in particular though, Kuroko. The Phantom man. Very intriguing. Your career took an unfortunate turn, but I always did hope you would be brought back to the field. You would be uniquely suited to the Special Ops, you know. If you’re interested, I would gladly submit your name as candidate.”

 

“Sir,” Kuroko said faintly, having nothing else, and took a drink of his tea. It _was_ the good stuff. A strange aftertaste though, that he couldn’t place.

 

Kiyoshi coughed, setting his cup down with a clatter that sloshed some of the liquid out on the desk. Kuroko was on his feet before he could think—was it poison? Had they just been poisoned? But he just grasped Kuroko’s arm, shaking his head. His eyes were glowing, eerie and blue. _I’ve always been partial to blue._ Kuroko bit his lip to hold back a hysterical laugh that threatened to arise.

 

<Not poison. Nanobots.>

 

Kuroko turned to Imayoshi. “Nanobots?” he bit out. “What is it you’re trying to do to us?”

 

His brows rose slightly. “Is that anyway to talk to the man who’s doing you a favor? Kids these days. No manners at all.” Imayoshi adjusted his glasses with a sigh. “They’re harmless, Kuroko, not to worry. I simply didn’t need anyone taking you away in the middle of our conversation.”

 

“Taking us…” Kuroko slowly sat back down in his chair as Kiyoshi’s coughing fit died down.

 

Imayoshi steepled his fingers. “Upon entrance to the Fleet as a cadet, you were injected with a tracker, making it possible for Central Command—and any AI interfacing with Command—to find you, wherever you went. An innovative idea on their part. But troublesome for the two of you, now that you’re…well.” He made a vague gesture with one hand. “Outlaws.”

 

He lifted his cup and swirled the liquid within once before drinking. “Those are the same ‘bots that are given to all Special Operatives. Nothing can remove the tracker, unless you fancy dying, but it _can_ be blocked.”

 

“Sir,” Kuroko felt his legs trembling even with Kiyoshi’s soft voice murmuring right in his head that everything was fine, “we’re not part of the Ops.”

 

“Indeed not. Yet.”

 

A loud voice shouting nearby—the words indistinct but the volume impossible to ignore—made both of them tense up. Imayoshi was completely unfazed, taking another desultory sip of his tea. He didn’t even flinch when something slammed into the wall hard enough that his whole office shuddered with the impact.

 

“That will be Wakamatsu.”

 

An oddly polite knock came at the door. “Seems we’ve been discovered. I had hoped to give you more time to consider my offer.”

 

Imayoshi called out for the person to enter, and a tall solid-looking man with tired eyes and a fatherly face stepped in.

 

“Sho—ah, General Imayoshi,” he corrected himself upon seeing the two seated across from him. “Apparently the officer and his Auxiliary meant to meet with the Admiral are currently missing.”

 

“How dreadful for him,” Imayoshi said. “Do close the door, Susa. Oh, and Wakamatsu! I need ten more minutes, if you please!” he added in a near shout.

 

Kuroko never did catch a glimpse of Wakamatsu as Susa closed the door, but he heard the long, loud string of cursing proclaiming Imayoshi to be a _thrice-damned fox-faced bastard son of—_

 

The door shut and the voice faded away in the distance.

 

“Susa, this is Kuroko Tetsuya and his marvelous _friend,_ Kiyoshi Teppei. Kuroko, Kiyoshi, I’d like you to meet Colonel Susa Yoshinori. Now, I don’t mean to rush things, but seeing as we’re on a tight schedule,” Imayoshi leaned forward as Susa took up a stance blocking the door, pushing one of the dataplates littering his desk towards Kuroko. “I can get in a lot of trouble for giving you those ‘bots when you’re not even a candidate, so do say you’ll sign these for me?”

 

Kuroko stared down at the dataplate. The words there were perfectly clear, but impossible to comprehend. _I, the undersigned, hereby submit my name for candidacy for the Special Operatives division of the Starfleet. I understand that in doing so, I relinquish all previous honors and titles…_ the words blurred. His breath was coming too short.

 

<Kuroko,> Kiyoshi said, his voice steady and soft. <He can’t make you sign.>

 

If he signed, he was protecting himself and Kiyoshi from Command. No one could touch the Ops. They governed themselves.

 

If he signed, he was damning himself and Kiyoshi to a lifetime of violence. Maybe Command could no longer track him, but there was no running from the Ops if you were accepted, there was no hiding. The only way you left, people in training school had nervously joked, was in pieces.

 

“This will protect us,” he confirmed, looking up at the smiling general.

 

“Protect? I don’t know about that, Kuroko,” he said with a click of his tongue. “But it’s a grand opportunity, don’t you think? An opportunity of a _lifetime_ , one might even say.”

 

Any port in a storm.

<Kiyoshi, I’m sorry.>

 

<I’m with you. No matter what.>

Kuroko pressed his thumb to the screen, feeling numb.

 

“Well now! That was easy, wasn’t it?” Imayoshi pulled the dataplate back, placing his own thumb against it briefly. “Susa, if you’d be so kind as to witness. All a part of the process,” he added in a conspiratorial undertone to Kuroko as the other man approached and took the plate, “to make certain you weren’t coerced into signing.”

 

A loud pounding came at the door, and an even louder shout for the General to open up came.

 

“The door’s open!” he called out brightly. “My goodness, everyone’s so very energetic today.”

 

There were several Command guards, armed, outside the door, and though they saluted the General formally, they looked furious.

 

“General Imayoshi,” one said stiffly, “these two are meant to be directed to the Admiral, immediately, without further interference.”

 

“Is that so?” he said with a smile. “How disappointing, when we were just starting to get along so famously. Well, come along, Kuroko, Kiyoshi. This is where we say goodbye.”

 

Imayoshi cupped his elbow as they moved to the door.

 

<The tracker block is permanent,> his voice slid silkily into his head. <Consider it a gift from your _friends_ formally in high places. You’ll tell him I say hello, won’t you?>

 

_Akashi?_

 

Kuroko was startled enough to glance sharply up at the man, but all he could see was the smallest edge of a smile and a glimpse of his eyes—all dark, pupils forever blown wide. All-seeing.

 

“I’ll be in touch soon about your new position. I’m sure you’ll fit in nicely with the rest of the Ops.”

 

The Command guards looked just short of murderous, vibrating in place with anger as Imayoshi finally let him go.

 

“Thank you for the opportunity to serve, sir,” Kuroko said hoarsely, both he and Kiyoshi ducking a polite bow before being hastily led away by the guards.

 

Was it really freedom if it came with its own set of shackles? They couldn’t be directly killed by Command anymore, at least.

 

One step at a time. He just had to put one foot down, and then the other. And maybe if they kept moving, if they never stopped, they would be fine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The door didn’t look any different than the others he had seen, but the entire hallway was blank except for the one. The emptiness of it all was unsettling, and the presence of the officer standing outside the door was all the more jarring for it.

 

“The Auxiliary stays outside,” they said coolly, after the guards saluted and left.

 

“I think not,” Kiyoshi said, something darkly contemptuous about his smile. The officer only just stopped themselves from recoiling. Kuroko didn’t say anything, even though by all rights he should have reprimanded him.

 

“It’s protocol,” the officer blurted out, eyes going between them rapidly. “Standard procedure. No Auxiliaries in the Admiral’s presence without prior approval.”

 

“So approve me.” Kiyoshi shifted. It was a subtle opening of his body, a sudden change of his weight distribution, but instead of the calm aura he usually exuded, Kuroko could feel the energy rolling off him, ready to turn violent. “We have time. We can wait.”

 

“That’s not—”

 

“Now, now. I’ll take it from here.” The voice was mild, and its owner quite plain and unassuming, possessing a face you could forget the instant you looked away.

 

“Of course, sir. Forgive me.” The officer bowed and moved aside.

 

Kuroko felt bare to his slow examination, but held still and kept his being as blank as possible. _I’m a ghost, I’m the Phantom,_ he repeated to himself. _You see me, but you can’t_ see _me._

“Auxiliary Kiyoshi Teppei. You will wait outside until summoned.”

 

Kiyoshi went completely tense beside Kuroko. It couldn’t have been more than a handful of seconds between the Admiral’s order and Kiyoshi stepping back against the wall, but Kuroko could feel the wrongness of it—could see how the tendons in his neck stood out in sharp relief before forcibly relaxing, could see the emptiness behind his eyes.

 

The way Kiyoshi stared straight through him.

 

<Kiyoshi?>

 

Nothing. Not even the sense that Kiyoshi could hear him.

 

“If you will, Lieutenant Kuroko,” the Admiral said pleasantly, gesturing to his open office door. “We have much to discuss, and so little time.”

 

Kuroko had determined not to be afraid. And he hadn’t been, not when he had Kiyoshi with him.

 

_I’m yours,_ he had promised.

 

_I, too, am furious._

Kuroko dug deep within him and latched onto that fury. It was more familiar than the tenuous _something_ Kiyoshi invoked in him. Safer, more certain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I suppose you’ll have divined the reason for you being brought all this way to headquarters.”

 

“Respectfully, sir, but no.”

 

“No?” The Admiral lifted his brows, folding his hands neatly on top of his desk. Kuroko did his best impression of a rock. “After all the…events that have occurred?”

 

“Sir, if I were being decommissioned there would be no need to bring me all the way to headquarters.”

 

His smile was thin. “Right you are, Lieutenant. You’re very clever, you know, more than I believe people give you credit for.”

 

“I doubt anyone would call allowing myself to be captured clever, sir.”

 

“And yet you sit before me know, a freshly made Special Operations soldier. No one can touch you now, legally. You’re outside of any jurisdiction, even mine. All of your records are now classified. Look.” He made a small gesture and Kuroko found himself staring down at his own picture. Kuroko Tetsuya, Special Operations. A red warning on the screen told him he was trying to access restricted information.

 

“If that’s not clever, Lieutenant, I don’t know what is.” The screen vanished. “Which is exactly why I chose you to be the one assigned to our old friend.”

 

_Kiyoshi._ He was both too cold and too hot, his back unpleasantly damp with sweat.

 

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, he’s quite clever himself—very good at getting what he wants. I needed an officer he would not find quite as _biddable_ as he would want.”

 

“You chose me, sir?” Kuroko’s throat was dry.

 

“Well,” he made a dismissive gesture, “there were certainly more qualified choices, but I had a good feeling about you. I will admit, I did not expect the level of personal attachment the two of you share, but it seems to have been a favorable arrangement so far.”

 

Kuroko did not respond, although his instinct was to deny it. The Admiral leaned back, self-satisfied with an affected smile.  


“But I digress. Your special _meeting_ with General Imayoshi was an unexpected delay, so I’d like to get right to business.”

 

Breathing evenly had never seemed like such an obstacle before today. “You said yourself sir,” he said evenly, “that I’m now outside your jurisdiction.”

 

The Admiral nodded in approval. “That’s correct. But Kiyoshi Teppei, on the other hand, remains under it.”

 

_You can’t have him._

 

“Respectfully, sir, he’s my Auxiliary.”

 

“Surely you must be aware,” he said, “that the Special Operatives do not take Auxiliaries. Not a one. They may make an exception seeing how unique of a case Kiyoshi Teppei is, but…the fact remains that he has outstanding orders to fulfill.”

 

In all that Imayoshi had said, he had made no mention of it.

 

“What orders would those be, sir?” he asked, surreptitiously touching his bracelet and doing his best to sound as calm as possible. He was a rock, unshakable. He was a ghost and nothing could touch him.

 

With a barely-there sigh, the Admiral leaned back in his chair, needlessly smoothing his hair back. When he spoke, he ignored  Kuroko’s question entirely.

 

“I’ve been watching your progress, and was impressed how you handled our little test.”

 

“Test,” Kuroko repeated.

 

“That little—what was it again? A planet-side excursion. I do apologize for the incident. No one quite expected it to be so messy. I trust your back gives you no trouble?”

 

Kuroko did not respond, too mired down by the thought that Command had knowingly caused the attack and didn’t have the decency to be ashamed of themselves.

 

“Sometimes the cost of progress can be,” he added, barely an afterthought, “regrettable.”

 

_Regrettable._

 

The injuries Kuroko had sustained meant nothing, but Furihata would carry the scars of what happened that day for the rest of his life. An Auxiliary was dead because of it. And all this man could say was that it was _regrettable._

“What about what happened on the _Tenebris,_ sir _?_ ” Kuroko asked, his voice shakier than he would have liked as he stared right into his dark, expressionless eyes. “Was that you _testing_ us again, by taking control of her and the Auxiliaries?”

 

His mouth tightened into a flat line, a vein jumping in his jaw before he forcibly relaxed his face.

 

“That,” he said slowly, “was not the doing of any active Command officer. I do not condone such anarchical destruction.”

 

“Of course not, sir.”

 

He only condoned death and destruction when it would further his aims. The Admiral was already continuing, putting aside the troublesome question.

 

“You know, there aren’t many people who see the big picture, Lieutenant. There it is, right in front of their eyes, but they refuse to see it. But that’s why Central Command exists, you understand. We see the big picture so others don’t have to. We deal with the more _shadowy_ aspects of humanity so that others don’t need to know.”

 

The Admiral looked him over slowly. Kuroko wasn’t sure what he saw, but the man nodded once to himself before continuing. “Which brings me to the matter of our old friend. He’s truly a marvel. Quite the relic from another era, but still very useful in some respects.”

 

Kuroko tried to reach out to Kiyoshi on instinct as the dread threatened to force its way up his belly and out, but there was nothing there. Nothing but a wall of silence.

 

“Now. You have knowledge of why Kiyoshi Teppei was placed back in the field.”

 

“You mean for him to be your attack dog,” Kuroko bit out. “You mean to have him kill someone for you, just as you had him kill the Emperor.”

 

He didn’t bat a single eyelash at Kuroko’s words. “That is accurate, if a bit crude. The way of life under the Emperor was dying out. Festering slowly. We at Central Command simply…shall we say, helped speed things along. Kiyoshi was a tool to achieve that end.”

 

_He’s not a tool. He’s a person._ Kuroko stared hard at the tight lines at the corners of the Admiral’s eyes. _He’s a human being._

“Respectfully, sir, I fail to see how this involves me.”

 

The Admiral, for the first time, seemed mildly annoyed, fussing the his sleeves.

 

“When we brought him up from storage, we found Kiyoshi to be considerably less _amenable_ to following orders than he was for our predecessors, unfortunately. He needed someone calling the shots for him again. A neutral party.”

 

“Me,” Kuroko said quietly.

 

“That’s correct.”

 

“You want me to give the orders this time,” Kuroko said. The dread and the fear were so overwhelming that Kuroko barely felt his body at all. He held tight to the knot of anger still stubbornly burning in his chest. “You want me to use him. To kill.”

 

The Admiral flashed a genuine smile that looked too broad and toothy for his thin face.

 

“As I said before, Lieutenant. You’re a clever man.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, I return with an update that gets the plot moving! Thanks, as always, for reading!


	7. Wildfire

Kuroko stared at the wall past the Admiral’s head. Seamless, blank, pristine white. The world was far away from his body, adrift in a cold, numb space.

 

“Auxiliary Kiyoshi,” the Admiral called out, oblivious to Kuroko’s state. “We are ready for you.”

 

The door slid open and Kuroko heard the steps he took until he stood at attention, at Kuroko’s let. He didn’t dare try to reach out for fear of finding nothing but the silence once again.

 

“No need to be so taciturn.” The Admiral laughed as if it were a joke and tapped his fingers once on the table, Kiyoshi immediately relaxed, drawing in a deep breath.

 

<Are you hurt?> he asked tightly, shifting his weight like he meant to throw his body between Kuroko and the Admiral. Kuroko could have cried with relief but he held stubbornly to his anger and the shreds of his composure. <Did he threaten you? If you touched you, I swear—>

 

<I’m fine, Kiyoshi,> he managed to draw his thoughts together enough for that. <He didn’t, I’m not hurt. But Kiyoshi, you’re—>

 

Kiyoshi spoke aloud, breaking off Kuroko’s words. “Admiral Shirogane,” he said coolly. “We meet again.”

 

The Admiral smiled slowly. “I was just explaining to the Lieutenant the details of your circumstances.”

 

“My circumstances are my own.” Kiyoshi sidestepped so he really did stand between them. “If you drag him into this, then I promise you’ll regret it.”

 

“If you can keep a civilized tone, Kiyoshi, I’ll lock you back up. Is that what you want?” He looked pensive for a moment. “Perhaps I’ll give the job to the Lieutenant entirely, seeing how uncooperative you’ve become.”

 

“You can’t.” Kuroko could see his hands clench and tremble at his sides. Kuroko ached for him. Because the other man couldn’t see, he reached unsteadily forward, laying a hand to his lower back.

 

“I’ll certainly have to jump through more hoops to see it done, now that the general’s had his hands on you, but believe me, I’ll find a way.” Kuroko couldn’t see around Kiyoshi but he could feel the tension in the muscles beneath his hand, feel the heat rolling off him almost hot enough to burn. “Have a seat, Auxiliary, and we can discuss this in a more civilized fashion.”

 

Kiyoshi stayed where he was for several more beats. Kuroko pressed harder, trying to convey—something. He wasn’t sure what. He returned his hand to his lap once Kiyoshi shifted his weight to move, taking the seat at Kuroko’s side.

 

“Now. I won’t waste any of our time. You’ll remember, Kiyoshi, your old starship.”

 

“Fortuna.”

 

“It’s the Laqueus now. Well, that’s beside the point.” The Admiral leaned forward—Shirogane, Kiyoshi had called him. The name was oddly familiar, but Kuroko couldn’t place it. “Have you heard of the Dutchman phenomenon?”

 

“A ship with no crew,” Kiyoshi replied. “The AI willfully disconnects from Central Command and wanders through space on their own.”

 

“But that’s just a story,” Kuroko blurted out. “It’s never actually happened.”

 

Kiyoshi’s voice brushed gently against his mind. <All stories have a grain of truth, Kuroko.>

 

“Command thought it best to be thought of as a story. It has happened, a handful of times.”

 

“And I suppose it’s happened again.”

 

“That’s correct. The Laqueus pulled itself from the grid, with not a word from the human crew. The last communication we had with the AI was…unsettling, in a word.”

 

“And I suppose,” Kiyoshi said, voice flat and mouth downturned into a hard line, “that you’re giving the order for me to search for and destroy her.”

 

Admiral Shirogane bowed his head slightly, the light catching the thin lines of silver in his dark hair. “I prefer the word _investigate_. The Laqueus will be an unfortunate loss. It holds a great wealth of information, so I’ll need you to board the ship and retrieve what you can from the AI.”

 

“And then?”

 

“Insubordination cannot be tolerated. Even if it is just a ship.” His smile stretched the skin of his face tight over the bones, thin and sharp and not quite human. “We wouldn’t want other impressionable young things seeing such a poor example of leadership.”

 

Gaze turning to Kuroko, the Admiral seemed to dismiss Kiyoshi’s presence entirely.

 

“Seeing as you’re being welcomed into the Special Operations, no charges can be pressed against you for past crimes. One less thing to worry about. I’ll be pushing this mission through to you through the appropriate channels.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Kuroko said woodenly.

 

<You don’t have to accept, Kuroko. He can’t touch you now.>

 

 _But he can touch you_. More than that, he could exert a disturbing amount of control over Kiyoshi, just from a single word.

 

“I’m glad to see we’re all finally on the same page. You’ll find I make a powerful ally, Lieutenant.” And a powerful enemy. “Or I suppose I ought to start calling you Operative now.”

 

<Kuroko, you don’t have to. We can find a way out.>

 

<Just shut up, Kiyoshi.>

 

“Yes, sir,” Kuroko said, and the words were like charred bones on his tongue.

 

They both stood to leave. It felt strange to turn his back to someone who so plainly meant them no good will. No sooner had he done so, the Admiral spoke once more.

 

“Before you go, there’s one more thing I should mention.”

 

Someone else you want to add to your hit list, Kuroko almost snapped out. Kiyoshi had stepped between them again, a solid barrier of heat at Kuroko’s back.

 

“What’s that, sir?”

 

“Our Research team was able to track down the signal from what was controlling those Auxiliaries on the night the Tenebris was attacked. It may interest you to know that whoever it was, they were on the Laqueus.”

 

“I thought it was a ghost ship. A Dutchman.”

There was the soft sound of an exhalation, the sound of his fingers drumming on the smooth surface of the desk.

 

“It is _now_. Just remember, Operative Kuroko Tetsuya,” he said, “right now we’re fighting for the same thing.”

 

“And what’s that, sir?”

 

“Justice, of course. Justice.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They had traded the cage for a leash and collar. An incredibly long leash and a collar that threatened to choke with every movement. By all rights, he should be dead. Kuroko knew he shouldn’t complain when this was what he had chosen for himself.

 

_The Ops were not a choice._

 

Kuroko shivered, recalling the glimpse of Imayoshi’s eyes, black and bottomless as a void and just as unnerving.

 

The plain halls were a blur to him, lit up only by Eve’s gently guiding voice in his head, leading him on to the room they were assigned on the station. Thanks to General Imayoshi’s meddling, they couldn’t stay in the Fleet bunks on the lower levels, but instead were to be kept in the rooms set aside for visitors from the Special Ops. They seemed to be put in the further corner away from everything else on the station.

 

Kiyoshi was quiet while they walked, stolidly remaining at his side even when others had to edge around them to get past.

 

<Are you okay, Kiyoshi?>

 

<I am.>

 

<What he did to you…>

 

<It doesn’t hurt. It…feels wrong, when it happens, but it doesn’t hurt.>

 

At long last, they stepped into their rooms. The air seemed stale, like nothing alive had been in there for many years, but it was clean and two neat piles of uniforms awaited them on the low bed. Kiyoshi had to duck under the doorframe to enter and had to remain slightly stooped to avoid hitting his head.

 

“Well,” he remarked idly, “that was certainly an experience.”

 

Kuroko sighed, deciding that comment wasn’t truly deserving of a response, even if he was right. He picked up one of the uniform jackets. Both were all black, a different cut than the uniform he wore now.

 

It was a uniform designed with combat in mind.

 

 “Kuroko—”

 

 “This one’s yours,” he interrupted, throwing the jacket at Kiyoshi to avoid whatever sentiment he was about to spout off. He didn’t know if he could handle it right now.

 

 “You may not want to discuss this right now, but…” he dropped down onto the bed, sitting cross-legged and patting the space across from him invitingly. “I think we should. Who knows if we’ll have time later?”

 

“There’s nothing to discuss.” Even so, Kuroko sat down.

 

“We’ll need a plan, of course, to get away.”

 

 “You want me to run.”

 

“It’ll be easy now. Maybe that’s what the General intended—”

 

“We both know that’s not true, Kiyoshi. Whatever he intended, it was for his own benefit, somehow.”

 

They were both quiet. The room, already small and low-ceilinged, felt cramped and starved for air. When was the last time someone from the Ops stayed here? Although Kuroko had never thought Command and the Ops got along well, the level of animosity and the feeling of ‘us’ versus ‘them’ was heavy in the station.

 

“Even if it was,” Kuroko said as an afterthought, “I don’t run from my duty.”

 

“Kuroko—”

 

“It’s my name on those documents. I’m the one who agreed. If you want to go, I’ll find you a way out—”

 

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m yours before you believe me?” he asked, sharp but not angry.

 

“Kiyoshi, you don’t—”

 

“I _do_. I do belong to you.”

 

“You never decided that on your own, it was forced—”

 

“I’m deciding now. I’m choosing now. And I choose you.” Kiyoshi smiled, crooked and small but true. “I will always choose you.”

 

The weight of his faith, of his feelings, was crushing. It hurt. Kuroko held to it like it was something that could save him, though it was more likely to pull him under the stormy waves of his heart.

 

“Even when it means you have to kill again?”

 

Looking away, Kiyoshi seemed to deliberate over his next words.

 

“I have killed for less, Kuroko,” he said, perfectly even, “than for the sake of loyalty to someone I care for.”

 

Kuroko shivered, gaze dropping down to his hands, limp on his lap. So small, delicate-seeming compared to Kiyoshi’s. His mind was abuzz with questions he wasn’t sure he really wanted answers to.

 

 “Ask me,” Kiyoshi said, low and warm.

 

“How many?”

 

“I don’t rightly know.”

 

“Too many, then,” Kuroko managed to whisper out.

 

 “Yes,” he agreed, softer. More fragile.

 

 “And the lesser reason.” Kuroko forced himself to look up, to meet those puppy-brown eyes that were so kind and so unreadable. “Was it because you were ordered to?”

 

“Most of them, yes.”

 

“The…the Emperor?”

 

“You’re awfully hung up on that one.”

 

“You don’t have to answer.”

 

 “It was an order, yes.”

 

Kuroko bit his lip; a compromise between the impossibility of remaining straight-faced and the unthinkable of bursting into tears.

 

“Does it bother you?” Kiyoshi asked. “Having a killer for an Auxiliary?”

 

“You’re my friend,” Kuroko corrected. “I just wish you hadn’t been put through that. I wish…I wish that I didn’t have to put you through that again.”

 

Kiyoshi sucked in an unneeded breath and leaned over, forehead resting against Kuroko’s, hands moving to rest on top of his. It was both too close and not nearly close enough.

 

“Just one more time,” he murmured. “Just once more. Tell your people that. We’ll leave once the Admiral is satisfied.”

 

Relief sank into Kuroko’s bones. If anyone could get him away from the Ops, it was Akashi.

 

_I don’t run from my duty._

_Is it duty if I agreed under coercion?_

 

“You can have the shower first,” Kuroko said, moving away even though his body craved nothing more than to move forward into Kiyoshi’s embrace. “I have a call to make.”

 

Kiyoshi looked into his face searchingly, before nodding slowly, pulling back his hands and heading off.

 

The call connected at once.

 

“Kuroko.” Akashi’s voice was relieved. “You’re well?”

 

“Where are you?” Kuroko asked immediately.

 

“On my ship, of course. Kuroko, is everything—”

 

“You’re lying,” he accused him, hearing the subtle difference in his voice. There were two Akashi’s, after all. Akashi Seijuro, diplomat, captain, leader of the Miracles, and heir to one of the most prominent political families in power; and Akashi Seijuro, his friend.

 

“Well,” Akashi did not really hesitate, though he did seem surprised by Kuroko’s vehemence. “I am on a ship. Shall I show you the license so you know that I’m the one who purchased it? If that would set your mind at ease—”

 

“Don’t patronize me, Akashi.”

 

“Then ask me what you really want to know, Kuroko.”

 

Kuroko took a breath, curling his toes inside his boots.

 

“You’re off the grid?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You should have told me you were going.”

 

“We were uncertain if you would approve, so I thought it best not to trouble you,” Akashi was not using his diplomat’s voice on him again, at least. “I knew you would find out, sooner or later. The truth has a way of finding the light, given time.”

 

“So everyone…”

 

“I have Murasakibara with me. And one Himuro Tatsuya, who refused to be left behind. Momoi, Aomine, Kagami, and Kise are together. As you know, Midorima and Takao are together.”

 

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” Kuroko whispered, rubbing wearily at his eyes. “You didn’t have to give up everything just for me.”

 

Akashi laughed gently, just for a moment. “Don’t give yourself too much credit, Kuroko. None of us would have left if we didn’t firmly believe it was the right choice. You know that.”

 

“Yes.”

 

He could hear Akashi sigh and shift around. “Aside from that, you and the others are my family. I don’t abandon family.”

 

_I don’t run from my duty. I don’t abandon family._

 

“What are you going to do? Where can you go?”

 

“As of now, we’re going to wait until we’re all together to decide.”

 

“But you have a plan.”

 

“Several plans. All dependent on the state of the group when I arrive.”

 

“Fine.”

 

“We haven’t given up on you, Kuroko. We won’t be a team again until you’re back with us.”

 

“I…there’s something I have to do.”

 

“So we all gathered. And if you’re aboard Eve, it’s safe to say you’re being disciplined harshly for what happened.”

 

“Not exactly. I’m part of the Special Ops now.”

 

Akashi was quiet for a beat too long. “How?” he asked, low and hard.

 

“Are you familiar with General Imayoshi?” Kuroko asked.

 

The silence lingered too long yet again.

 

“General Imayoshi,” he said softly, his tone of voice shifting dangerously. “Shouichi. Familiar is not the term I would use, but we are acquainted. Why do you ask?”

 

“He’s my sponsor for the Ops. He said it was a gift from a friend. I thought he might have meant you.”

 

“Me? I’ve not encountered the man since—” he cut himself off, a soft hiss going through his teeth. “I’ve not encountered him in some time,” was his amendment. “You might ask Aomine. They spent a not inconsiderable amount of time together before he could get transferred under Momoi’s command.”

 

Kuroko nodded, making a note to speak to him. Any clue Aomine could give about the inscrutable man might help determine his motives.

 

“I owe you an apology,” Akashi continued without waiting for Kuroko to say anything else.

 

It took a moment for Kuroko to think of what he might be talking about. “For what, exactly, Akashi?”

 

“For forcing you to choose probable death or a position that would trap you permanently in the fleet, when I could have dragged out of there. Even if it would have been against your will.”

 

Kuroko did not know what to say, so he kept quiet, instead looking at the dark shadows beneath Akashi’s stridently red eyes.

 

“You’ll do well there. That I’m certain of. Nijimura, the Commander of the Ops, is a family connection. He’s a good man.”

 

“We’re both alive,” Kuroko eventually said, thinking of Imayoshi’s cold, sly expression. Whatever waited for them in the Ops, regardless of the family connection, he did not dare to hope it would be anything good. “That’s enough for now.”

 

Akashi seemed to look deep inside him but Kuroko did not flinch from it.

 

“If you wish to escape the Ops…”

 

“We do. After we…after we do this one thing. If you can get us away—”

 

Akashi nodded slightly. “I’ll think of something. I promise.”

 

“Thank you.” Kuroko said it with all the feeling he could muster. He thought the conversation would be concluded there, but Akashi frowned a little, leaning forward towards the screen.

 

“Do you think it wise, this level of attachment?”

 

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

 

“You’re not as dense as you act sometimes, Kuroko. Your Auxiliary. This Kiyoshi Teppei.”

 

“Akashi, I’m not concerned about what is or isn’t wise.” He took a breath, knowing the next words would hurt them both. “Would you call my _attachment_ to Ogiwara unwise?”

 

Akashi’s eyes lidded. “That’s not the same, Kuroko,” he said.

 

“Isn’t it?”

 

He looked away, not quite uncomfortable but something like the anticipation of regret in the set line of his mouth.

 

“You weren’t in love with Ogiwara.”

 

Kuroko should have denied it. It should have been easy, to open his mouth and let the words—any words, really—come forth. Something dismissive, something that would absolve himself of the sin of loving whom he should not. What he should not.

 

But his tongue felt swollen in his mouth, his head felt light and buzzing. By the time he could speak, it was too late for denials.

 

_“You love me, don’t you? My little brother.” He coughed, reaching up to clumsily card his fingers through Kuroko’s hair. “My little piece of sky.”_

_“I do,” he promised. “You’re my brother. I do.”_

_He still had the barely visible scar on his palm to prove it by, the memory of the sting of the stolen knife, as they swore forever to each other._

_“Then you’ll do this for me.” Ogiwara smiled his red-stained smile, looking assured. “I showed you how. It’s easy. Just make sure you aim.”_

_“I can’t,” Kuroko pleaded. “Ogiwara, I can’t.”_

_“If you love me, you must.”_

_“Shigehiro,_ please _—”_

_“I’ll still be with you.” He grasped the back of Kuroko’s neck and pulled him close. His breath stank, metallic. “Just…just not like this. Tetsuya, I can’t do it like this.”_

_Kuroko wanted to close his eyes but didn’t dare, he didn’t dare stop looking at him, not for an instant. “I know,” he whispered._

_“I tried for you, little brother.”_

_“I know.”_

_“Then please.”_

_And it was easy like he promised, over so fast, and the blood was familiar and the weight of him in his arms felt terrible and_ please, Shigehiro, I can’t do this alone _, but he was gone._

_Kuroko wept, but he was gone gone gone._

 

“I don’t want you to get hurt again, Kuroko. It’s not like I can stop you, but I would advise caution.”

 

It was too late by far for caution. And Kuroko had never liked being told what to do.

 

“I appreciate your concern, Akashi.”

 

Akashi sighed, leaning back. “I know you’ll go your own way. You always have. Just don’t forget that I’m—we’re all here to support you. Your fight is our fight, if you’ll let us stand with you.”

 

The sound of the shower went on for a handful of minutes past when Kuroko disconnected the call, almost soothing. When Kiyoshi emerged, hair still dripping, he was mostly dressed in his new uniform, form-fitting black, minus the jacket. It left his arms bare, displaying the muscles and the ragged scar tissue that mimicked the scars on his chest.

 

“Dry your hair properly,” Kuroko admonished, getting up and moving past him in the bathroom to shower and change into his own new uniform. No sense in clinging to what no longer belonged to him. “And I have a favor to ask.”

 

He took his time under the water, trying not to think of anything at all. No matter how long he stood under the spray, the temperature never shifted, so eventually Kuroko had to drag himself out into the marginally cooler air.

 

The black clothing fit like a glove, like he had never worn anything else. Even he looked dangerous in it, like the Phantom people always called him. Kuroko could hardly bear to meet his own tired gaze in the steamed-up mirror.

 

When he exited the bathroom, Kiyoshi was finger-combing his hair. It was longer, again.

 

“I could cut it for you,” Kuroko blurted out, and Kiyoshi looked up with slightly raised brows. “Your hair. If it bothers you when it’s long.”

 

“If you don’t mind then.” He stood, moving past Kuroko back into the bathroom, throwing his damp towel over his shoulders. Kuroko drew in an unsteady breath before following.

 

The small space was too crowded with Kiyoshi in it. He filled it with his presence alone, warm and verging on smothering with its strength. Kuroko ignored it, digging around in the cupboard until he found scissors.

 

It had been a long time since he had cut anyone else’s hair but his own, but the motions were familiar. Muscle memory. He had done this for Ogiwara, and for many of his Miracle companions.

 

“What was that favor?” Kiyoshi murmured quietly, obviously trying not to disturb him. The more Kuroko clipped, the more angular his face became, the more real and present he was.

 

“Tenebris—I promised her I would let her know if we found out anything about what happened that night. If you have any way of contacting her….”

 

 “I can certainly try. It will take time. She’s far away.”

 

Kuroko nodded. The feel of Kiyoshi’s skull beneath his fingertips was strangely comforting, and it was hard to pull his touch away when he finished.

 

“All done,” he said, unnecessarily. Kiyoshi was staring at him in their reflections.

 

“Thank you. I feel more myself, now!”

 

He looked more him, as well, if such a thing were possible.

 

Kuroko fled his stare. Even though it could hardly be considered the time to sleep, he curled up on the bed with his face to the wall. He was unsurprised when Kiyoshi joined him, stretching out with a soft sigh, patting his shoulder once before withdrawing and maintaining the barest of distances.

 

“Something’s bothering you. Is it the General? The Admiral?”

 

It was everything that had happened since he had met Kiyoshi. It _was_ Kiyoshi.

 

_You weren’t in love with Ogiwara._

 

 “Do you love me?” Kuroko asked bluntly, eyes closed against the dark and face aflame. Sprawled out beside him, Kiyoshi was unnaturally still.

 

“Kuroko,” he exhaled, reverently. “I’m…I’m not human. I know we both want me to be, but I’m not. The leg’s not the least of it.”

 

“That’s not what I asked.” He was regretting asking already. His chest hurt and his eyes stung. “Forget it,” Kuroko sighed, rolling over closer to the wall. “Goodnight, Kiyoshi.”

 

“I don’t want to forget,” Kiyoshi said, more subdued. “Kuroko, I…ask me again.”

 

It had been bad enough the first time. Kuroko ignored him until Kiyoshi touched his back, tracing the line of his spine down.

 

“Do you love me?” Kuroko asked, voice cracking painfully on the words he both wanted to say and despised himself for saying.

 

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in his reply this time, no room for doubt. Kiyoshi let out a breathless, shaky laugh. “And you, Kuroko? Do you love me?”

 

_I wouldn’t have ever asked otherwise, idiot._

 

“Yes.” It was easier to admit to than he thought it would be. Kuroko felt dizzy with the lightness of it. “If you’re lying, I’ll never forgive you.”

 

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

 

“Yes, you would.”

 

“Not about this.”

 

 “If you say so.”

 

Kiyoshi did not touch him again, but Kuroko didn’t mind the space so much. It was already hard to breathe with the new knowledge resting heavy in the room and with Kiyoshi right there.

 

_But you’ve always known._

 

He just hadn’t wanted it to be true.

 

If Kiyoshi had said no, they would have been safe. They could have continued on, just like before. Two men against the world. Or perhaps for the world, fighting a fight they didn’t know existed. Nothing would have changed. Even if the ‘no’ was a lie, Kuroko would have accepted it. But Kiyoshi had said yes.

 

Kiyoshi had said yes.

 

Kuroko rolled over at once and found himself staring at Kiyoshi’s dimly lit face in profile. His eyes were open wide, intent upon the low ceiling. Before Kuroko could reach out to him, he spoke.

 

“I don’t want you to regret this, Kuroko.”

 

“This.”

 

“Us,” he amended with a smile that was more pain than happiness, “I don’t want you to regret us.”

 

“I don’t even know what ‘us’ is, Kiyoshi,” Kuroko said after a moment passed. _I don’t even know if we’ll live long enough to do anything about_ us _._

 

“And yet here we are.”

 

“Here we are,” Kuroko agreed.

 

“What now?” Kiyoshi asked, glancing to him. There was no red color to his cheeks, but the heat coming off his body was incredible.

 

“We still have to track down the Dutchman ship.”

 

“Fortuna.”

 

“Laqueus.”

 

“She’ll always be Fortuna to me.”

 

 “She killed Auxiliaries.” She had very nearly killed him, too.

 

“That wasn’t her. I’m certain of it. I don’t think she turned Dutchman like the Admiral said. Someone’s aboard, controlling her.”

 

“That’s a lot of faith to have, for a ship.”

 

He had believed, too, in the _Tenebris_. Kuroko had believed in her, in the end, too. Maybe he should give Kiyoshi the benefit of the doubt.

 

But he couldn’t get the image of Kiyoshi’s dead eyes after the Admiral spoke to him, the way he silently obeyed, with the barest signs of resistance. He remembered Kiyoshi telling him about the gaps in his memories—the places he wasn’t allowed to go inside his own programming.

 

Midorima could fix that. If they lived long enough to reach him and the others.

 

“You’ll try to reach the Tenebris?” Kuroko asked again.

 

“Of course.”

 

Kiyoshi finally reached out for him, curling his arm around Kuroko’s middle and drawing him up against his chest. His heart thrummed steadily in his chest, a soothing beat. That combined with the warmth he gave off made Kuroko drowsily relax.

 

And when Kiyoshi began to hum softly, a song familiar and melancholy, Kuroko slipped quietly away into sleep, where he dreamed of nothing but darkness. A good darkness. Warm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No time was wasted in seeing them transferred to the nearest Special Ops ship—one that was conveniently led by Commander Nijimura himself, or so Imayoshi told them over the breakfast he invited them to in his personal office again.

 

“Nijimura is the uptight sort, but his heart’s in the right place. I’m sure you’ll get along famously.”

 

When Kuroko questioned him about their ‘mutual friend’, he only smiled and cocked his head, making an idle comment that the new uniform suited him.

 

“Shadows for the Phantom man,” he had said with a laugh.

 

“You’re an Operative now, not a Lieutenant. Don’t forget that,” Imayoshi said before he saw them off to the docks.

 

“How is it that you’re connected to the Ops, sir?”

 

“Just Imayoshi, please, Kuroko. You’re making me feel old.” He laughed again, touching his arm lightly. Kiyoshi shifted his weight forward, bristling at the touch more than Kuroko did. “As to how I’m connected…”

 

He paused briefly, tapping a finger to his lips.

 

“It’s a secret!” he proclaimed cheerfully, gaze sharper than the cut of a laser. “I’m a special person, you know. Well-liked. Nijimura and I, we go way back.”

 

Kuroko was unbearably curious about what kind of history a General from the Fleet and the Ops Commander could possibly have. He doubted he was well-liked outside of his own people.

 

The General stepped into the airlock with them, waving at the Command guards until they nervously stepped out and locked them in.

 

“Sir?” Kuroko asked cautiously.

 

He was no longer smiling and the difference in expression was chilling.

 

“We don’t’ have much time. The Admiral has given you a job, yes? A job you’d rather not do, I’d bet.” Imayoshi looked over the top of his tinted glasses, black eyes squinted but all the more unnerving without that thin barrier of polycarb.

 

“Don’t do it,” he said fiercely, the first time Kuroko had heard him be really serious. “If he gets his hands on the information the AI holds, Command will continue to rot from the inside out, and will take the Fleet with it. The Ops too, if they can manage.”

 

“Respectfully, sir,” Kuroko said, moving subtly closer towards Kiysohi, “but what you’re talking about it treason.”

 

“That didn’t stop your big friend here before.”

 

“I had no choice,” Kiyoshi said smoothly, polite.

 

Imayoshi sighed, pushing his glasses back up. “You’ve no reason to believe me, that I know. You probably think I’m doing this for my own benefit—and you’re right! To an extent. I want to save myself and my crew. But know this, Kuroko, Kiyoshi.” He adopted a formal stance, hands clasped behind his back as the airlock doors ticked softly in preparation of opening. “You’ll be saving everyone else too.”

 

“Sir—Imayoshi, the information the AI has—it’s that dangerous?”

 

He bowed his head. “In the hands of Admiral Shirogane? More dangerous than you can imagine. Why do you think the Laqueus went rogue in the first place?”

 

The airlock doors slid open, ending their conversation. Kuroko’s hands were sweating as he quickly mimicked Imayoshi’s stance, Kiyoshi being slower to move and standing too close to him than he should rightfully be. Kuroko elbowed him slightly away. The last thing they needed was to make a poor impression.

 

With the airlock doors out of the way, they could see the three Ops soldiers there to collect them, all in unrelieved black.

 

The man in the center, slender and stern, ran his eyes over them slowly.

 

“Kuroko Tetsuya,” he said, his voice cool and light as the brush of snowflakes on skin. “Welcome to the Special Operations division.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” he replied, automatic. “It’s a pleasure to serve.”

 

 “I doubt that. Not with General Imayoshi as your sponsor.” He rolled his shoulders in a way that only drew more attention to the scars on his neck—heavy, jagged lines running in a circle. “My name is Nijimura Shuzo, and I’m the Commander of this division.”

 

“Come now, Nijimura, there’s no call to be rude. We’re all friends here.”

 

“Some of us are. I’m not sure what you’ve schemed up with this, Imayoshi, but I have no desire to keep the Admiral’s pawn among my people.”

 

Imayoshi grinned. “If you’re thinking of him as a pawn, my dear Shuzo, you’re in for a nasty surprise.” He dropped a light hand to the center of Kuroko’s back. Kiyoshi gritted his teeth audibly.

 

Nijimura’s frown deepened and he turned sharply on his heel, leaving Kuroko and Kiyoshi to follow.

 

“Not to worry, boys. He’ll warm up eventually. Safe travels.” Imayoshi waved them on as the other Ops soldiers waited for them to step aboard the new ship. “Remember what we discussed.”

 

It took a while for them to catch up to Nijimura’s short but quick strides, the airlock doors closing with a sound of finality behind them.

 

“I’ll warn you right now, the two of you have attracted lot of attention. It would be in your best interests to keep a low profile for a while.”

 

 “Yes, sir.”

 

Nijimura nodded his approval. “There’s not much else to explain. The master schedule should be in your mail, it’s up to you to make sure you’re where you ought to be, when you ought to be. The ship is mostly manual operations, so there’s no AI to interface with. Oh, and Kuroko,” he added with a slight frown that made his already serious face more stern, pausing and looking back over his shoulder. They had to draw up short to keep from running into him. “Keep your Auxiliary in line.”

 

Kiyoshi shifted beside him. “I can behave myself, sir,” said easily. Nijimura’s dark eyes flicked to him briefly then back to Kuroko, dismissive.

 

 “As I said,” he repeated in a colder tone. “Keep him in line. His presence here is an exception, you understand.”

 

Kuroko resisted the urge to clench his jaw and bowed stiffly to him. “Of course, sir. I understand completely.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No one seemed inclined to speak to them or interact with them in any way. It was easy to find his way around the ship, as it was significantly smaller than any he’d served on before, plus Kiyoshi was there to help guide him. There were maybe 30 other soldiers aboard, all of them focused on their work and each other.

 

It was lonely.

 

Kuroko put in a call to Aomine to talk about General Imayoshi, but got little out of him that wasn’t a warning to be careful about the “fox-faced bastard”. He, too, hadn’t spoken to him in a long time.

 

If Kiyoshi was troubled by being the lone Auxiliary on the ship—the _Arcus_ —he gave no sign of it.

 

“I told the Tenebris,” he said abruptly their second night, after they retreated to their room after dinner and a tired day of manually repairing wirings in the ship.

 

 “And?”

 

“She thanked me. Us. She asked when she could expect our return.”

 

Kuroko swallowed hard, rubbing a hand through his hair. Most likely, they would never be able to return.

 

“Kuroko, about the other night—”

 

An insistent rapping came at the door, startling them both. Kuroko hastened to answer it, both with the dread of the upcoming mission from the Admiral stirring in his gut as well as the desire to escape whatever clearly sentimental conversation Kiyoshi had wanted to start.

 

For all that they were both living on limited time, Kuroko wasn’t sure he was ready. He hadn’t really been ready when he asked, but the talk with Akashi and the memories of Ogiwara had spurred him on.

 

It was Nijimura who stood outside the door, impatience on his features.

 

“Commander.” Kuroko ducked a quick bow, Kiyoshi responding more slowly. “How can I help you?”

 

“It’s mission time for the Admiral’s boys,” he barked out, jerking his head down the hall. “Come with me.”

 

“Sir, we’re not—”

 

“Coerced or not, you’re still his playthings until he says so. I know the way that he works.” He spun on his heel as they scrambled to follow after., Kiyoshi grabbing Kuroko’s jacket and tossing it to him, Kuroko scooping up both of their gun holsters and handing Kiyoshi’s over once he made it to his side.

 

“Sir, respectfully, but I am nobody’s plaything.”

 

Nijimura glanced back over his shoulder towards him, dark eyes calculating. “Maybe not.” His head whipped back around. Kuroko tried not to look at the way it stretched out his scars. “I’m going to give you a piece of advice to think over. Imayoshi is your sponsor, but if you’ve any sense, you don’t trust him.”

 

“Sir,” Kuroko murmured in bland reply.

 

“Exactly. I’ll tell you one thing,” he paused, saluting to a passing Ops soldier. “If he told you something about the Admiral, you’d be best off believing in him. And I know you’ve no reason to trust me, other than the fact that I’m your commanding officer, but if you never believe another word I say, believe in this. Anything the Admiral wants this badly, its important he never gets it. Last time he did, someone important died.”

 

“The Emperor,” Kiyoshi said. Nijimura’s shoulders rose slightly, the muscles bunching beneath his uniform. When he spoke, his words were stiff.

 

“The Emperor was one among the many, Auxiliary. As I’m sure you know.”

 

They walked briskly through the docks until they came to one of the side airlocks, where Nijimura ushered them aboard a small ship.

 

 “Welcome to the Oculus, your new home for the duration of your mission.”

 

After serving on the Tenebris and other ships and stations, this ship seemed almost cramped for space in comparison. But it was clearly all top of the line tech.

 

“This is a manual ship, like all the others used by the Ops. It can be flown easily by one person and is designed to accommodate up to five passengers.” Nijimura seemed to hesitate, touching the center console with his fingertips, not even hard enough to light up the screen. “There’s no AI, but I’d bet your Auxiliary can still interface with some of the computers.”

 

Kuroko nodded. Kiyoshi was gazing around the Oculus with interest.

 

“And the details of our mission, Commander?” he asked casually, eyes catching the light of the stars through the polycarb panes.

 

Nijimura tensed again at Kiyoshi’s direct address of him. What was it that he had against Auxiliaries? He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a handheld dataplate and pressing it into Kuroko’s hands.

 

“You’ll find the details there. It appears half the work is done for you; they’ve managed to track the last signal the Laqueus gave off to the area near the Kirisaki nebula. If it’s anything like the previous Dutchman ships, it won’t have wandered far yet. Get in there, do what you have to, get out.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“I know the Ops has not been the most welcoming of places for you so far. Give it time. We take care of our own.”

 

Though Kuroko was certain he meant to be reassuring, Nijimura’s words rang ominous. The Ops would take care of him if he returned. And if he did not return, they would take care of him in a different, more permanent way.

 

“The ship is outfitted for the journey, but if there’s anything you need to pack—”

 

“There’s nothing, sir.” He had not been permitted to take anything with him other than his Fleet mandated items, and even those were now gone. _I have nothing._

<You have me.> Kiyoshi’s reminder was so soft and delicate that it felt like one of his own thoughts.

 

“Then this is where we say goodbye.” Nijimura half-bowed to him and Kuroko bowed in return. “Good luck, Operative. Remember what I told you.”

 

Kuroko certainly did not trust the Admiral. He didn’t think it wise to trust General Imayoshi. But Nijimura inspired trust in him, for a reason he could not consciously place, despite his cold, disdainful attitude towards Kiyoshi. It was an attitude not unlike Hyuuga’s, he thought.

 

Akashi had promised he could get him away from the Ops once the mission was through. But could even he protect them all from the wrath of the Admiral if he didn’t get what he wanted from them?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The _Oculus_ ran perfectly, though without the AI it felt cold to interact with. And the distraction of manual flying kept Kuroko busy enough that he didn’t have to think. Not about the Admiral, not about his friends abandoning the Fleet, not about what Imayoshi and Nijimura had both said.

 

It was impossible, of course, to not think about Kiyoshi.

 

Designed for five people though it was, Kiyoshi seemed to fill the entire ship with himself, with his humming, his smile, his everything. With just the two of them, he seemed positively carefree.

 

“That song you’re always humming,” Kuroko asked, the morning of their second day. “What is it?”

 

A small line appeared between his brows.

 

“I’ve forgotten the words,” he said, faintly surprised. “Something about the mountains. My grandfather used to sing it.”

 

“It sounds familiar.” It sounded the like same song he heard in his dreams.

 

“It’s a song form the homeland. It’s in your blood, I’m sure, the spirit of the Earth.”

 

Was it really home if he had never been there? but it was a nostalgic song, filling him with a long for somewhere else.

 

"You don't have to follow through with the Special Ops now," Kiyoshi observed. "Not with the tracker block. You can go anywhere to want, do anything you want. Be anything you want."

  
But Kuroko didn't know where he wanted to go, what he wanted to be or do. Not really, not in a way that gave him certainty.

  
He liked the person he was when he was with Kiyoshi.

  
"You have the block too," Kuroko reminded him. "There's nothing keeping you here, once this is done with. You could return to Earth."

  
Kiyoshi closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the seat. "There's no one there anymore, not for me. My grandparents passed while I was in storage."

  
"I'm sorry," Kuroko said softly.

  
"Don't be. Do you know, Kuroko, they let me go back home to see them after I was turned? But they had buried me already, they refused to do anything other than open the door and tell me to leave their property before they called the police on me for trespassing. I was alive again but they believed me dead."

  
He sighed, a deep exhalation that left him boneless where he sat.

  
"I was surprised, being dead and all, at how much that hurt."

  
"You're not dead, Kiyoshi," Kuroko promised him, reaching out instinctively to grip his hand. The touch seemed to startle him a little.

  
"No I suppose not." He laughed a little and Kuroko could almost believe in it. "What I meant to say was that I'd like to stay with you, if you'll have me."

  
"Of course." There had never been any question about that. Kuroko turned back to the view of the stars. “How much longer until we’re there?”  
  


“A day and a half, at this speed. And if she hasn’t moved far from where she last was spotted.”

 

“You don’t think she will have moved?”

 

“I think she was baiting us, with the stunt on the Tenebris. I think she’s waiting.”

 

If that was case, they had best be prepared.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Is it because I’m half-robot?” Kiyoshi asked that night, when they were curled in the same small bed. There were other rooms, but they had taken the same one without question. It wouldn’t feel right, being apart. “Or because I died?”

 

“What are you talking about, Kiyoshi?” Kuroko mumbled into the pillow. His hands hurt from all the navigating he had done through an asteroid belt that cut right through their path.

 

“The reason you won’t touch me anymore.”

 

Kuroko opened his eyes to the dark, lifting his head slightly up and looking over at him. Kiyoshi’s eyes were closed, his face

 

“What are you _talking about_ , Kiyoshi?”

 

“Well, for someone who claims to love me, you certainly don’t seem to act it.” There was something tense and self-conscious about Kiyoshi’s voice despite his relaxed pose.

 

Kuroko punched him, hard.

 

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed out, over the sound of his indignant yelp, “say something like that again to me. _Ever._ Do you think this is easy for me? The fact that I even said it—”

 

“—should be enough. But it’s not.”

 

“Then what more do you want from me?” Kuroko’s voice cracked. He wasn’t sure there was anything else he could give to Kiyoshi.

 

“Kiss me,” Kiyoshi suggested, softly, trying for playful and achieving something entirely too painfully hopeful.

 

Kuroko’s eyes automatically dropped to Kiyoshi’s lips. They were wide, full, curved up with a slight smile. Tempting. He could feel his pulse in his throat.

 

“Don’t say ridiculous things.”

 

“Ridiculous? How is that—”

 

“Goodnight, Kiyoshi,” Kuroko said pointedly.

 

The bigger man sighed heavily, but settled down, wrapping his arms around Kuroko and pressing as close as he could.

 

“Goodnight,” he whispered, lips brushing against the back of Kuroko’s neck as he spoke, making him shiver.

 

Kuroko modulated his breathing but it was impossible to calm his heartbeat down when Kiyoshi was _right there,_ breathing on him and holding him with such obvious affection. His breathing was slow and warm, sweet-smelling where it rushed over Kuroko’s skin.

 

“Kiyoshi?” he whispered. There was no response, so Kuroko carefully sat up, pulling partially out of Kiyoshi’s grasp. He frowned in his sleep, fingers twitching and arms curling in towards his chest.

 

 _Kiss me_.

 

As if it was that simple.

 

Maybe, just maybe it was.

 

Before he could think better of it, Kuroko leaned over him and paused just a bare inch away from Kiyoshi’s face. They had been this close before. His long, dark eyelashes lay delicately against his skin, his nose was slightly crooked, the arch of his brows somehow noble.

 

His lips were parted, as if in invitation.

 

With a shiver, Kuroko pulled back again, pressing his lips lightly to Kiyoshi’s forehead instead.

 

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If Kiyoshi had been awake for the kiss, he made no mention of it, but that morning Kuroko awoke tangled up in him, and Kiyoshi’s greeting smile had been slow and lazily content.

 

Kuroko so badly wanted to kiss him again. Really kiss him.

 

He forced himself out of Kiyoshi’s arms. He had a ship to fly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The _Laqueus_ was waiting, just like Kiyoshi said she would be.

 

“I told you I was brave.” Kuroko’s mouth was dry as they waited for the airlock to clear. His reflection in the doors looked more real than he felt. “I told you I wasn’t afraid.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I lied.”

 

Kiyoshi reached over, taking his hand for just a moment. “I know,” he said softly. “It’s going to be okay.”

 

He dropped his hand right as the door opened.

 

The smell hit him first, the cloying scent of decay, so thick in the air that Kuroko could feel it settle in his lungs. He tried not to gag as he stepped forward cautiously, gun raised.

 

The ship, except for the soft whirr of the engines and the sound of their boots, was silent.

 

And Kuroko had been around enough dead bodies to recognize that stench.

 

<The AI will be at the center of the ship,> Kiyoshi spoke into his head softly, taking careful steps at his side. When Kuroko glance towards him, his eyes were stony, roving over the abandoned dock.

 

He had only seen him in true combat once. He had forgotten the intensity that stormed around him, the feeling that nothing and nobody could touch him.

 

<Do you remember your way?>

 

<She may have changed. But I’ll try.>

 

They moved slowly, encountering nothing in the docks but the stench and the silence. The doors slid noiselessly open to the hall and Kuroko nearly jumped out of his skin.

 

A pile of corpses, resting in what had once been a puddle of their own blood, lay in wait just outside the door.

 

“I’ll move them,” Kiyoshi said, his voice unaffected but his mouth in a hard line.

 

“I can help.”

 

“You can help by standing back.” Kiyoshi smiled to soften the words. “It’ll go faster that way. Trust me.”

 

Kuroko wasn’t about to argue with that. He turned his back partially, breathing shallowly through his mouth to try and avoid some of the smell, scanning the docks again. There was nothing but emptiness. In the corner of his vision he could see Kiyoshi hauling the corpses aside with surprisingly little ceremony. The sound of them moving against the floor sent shivers up his spine.

 

“Let’s go, Kuroko.”

 

“Shouldn’t we say something?”

 

Kiyoshi sighed, staring at the bodies he had neatly lined up along the wall. “I don’t know that there’s much left to say, at this point. They’re long gone, Kuroko. But if you want…” He faced the row, placing his hands together and bowing towards them. Kuroko mimicked his position, thinking one of the few prayers his grandmother had taught him, the same one he thought over the dead Auxiliaries. A prayer to honor the dead.

 

“What happened to them?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

 

“I suspect we’re going to find out.” Kiyoshi curled an arm around his shoulder, just for a moment, squeezing gently. “I think it’s this way,” he said, gesturing to the left. Kuroko let him lead on in silence, gun still raised. They passed several more corpses, some human, some obviously Auxiliary.

 

Nothing was alive.

 

“The AI,” Kuroko ventured, as they walked deeper and deeper into the heart of the _Laqueus._ “Couldn’t you try talking to her?”

 

“I have a bad feeling,” Kiyoshi murmured, “that she might take me over if I try.”

 

“She’s that strong?”

 

“She was. But I could…” he paused, nearly making Kuroko run into him. His eyes lidded, flashing suddenly with blue light. Kuroko swallowed hard, grip tightening on his gun.

 

Kiyoshi’s entire body shuddered, eyes flying open wide.

 

“It’s not her,” he gasped out. “He’s…I don’t know who or how, but he’s _wrong._ This is bad, Kuroko, very bad.”

“What’s wrong, Kiyoshi?” Kuroko dared to touch him, the side of his neck, where he could see a faint pulse of light beneath the thin skin. He was overly warm to the touch, but the lights behind his eyes vanished as he focused on Kuroko. “Is there someone controlling the Laqueus?”

 

“No. There’s nothing. I’m sorry for scaring you,” he said, a crooked smile twisting his lips.

 

“I’m not scared of you.”

 

“No?”

 

“No,” Kuroko said firmly.

 

Kiyoshi laughed. “Then I’m not sure which of us is the bigger fool.” He bent down, one large hand cradling the side of Kuroko’s face before sliding away. “He’s just through that door. The AI. Are you ready?”

 

Kuroko nodded.

 

 

Kiyoshi smiled tightly.

 

The door slid open noiselessly to reveal a huge, dimly lit room. The lights that did work were flickering in and out periodically. Large boxes were stacked in neat rows. Moving in unison, they moved carefully into the room. Kuroko wasn’t sure what he was looking for; he had never been this deep inside a ship before.

 

“Kiyoshi,” he said softly, “What are we—”

 

A soft laugh came from the shadows of the room. Beside him, Kiyoshi went unnaturally still.

 

“If it isn’t my old friend, Iron Heart,” a voice said, disembodied and dripping with venomous disdain. “Never thought I’d cross paths with you so soon.”

 

“Yet you don’t sound surprised to see me,” Kiyoshi replied, his tone perfectly modulated even as he kept his gun pointed towards the darkness where the sound had come from, “old friend.”

 

Another laugh, short and sharp and echoing. “Nothing surprises me. You have your habits, and I, my web. How long has it been now, Iron Heart? One century? Two? Time sure flies. And the first thing you do is point your gun at me? I’m wounded.”

 

“A voice is easy to fake. Step into the light, and I’ll lower my gun.”

 

A soft mechanical hiss echoed from the shadows and then there was a tense minute of silence.

 

“The world has played a cruel joke on me, old friend.” The voice was bitter. Just a moment later the lights of the deck flickered on. Kuroko heard a gasp, only dimly aware that it was himself.

 

There was a man there.

 

Half a man, his body tangled with wires, limbs splayed uselessly and chest cavity open to reveal the mix of viscera and machine within. The man grinned at them, green eyes unnaturally bright beneath heavy locks of limp black hair that was raggedly cut to his shoulders. His teeth, too, caught the light, perfectly white and clean.

 

“Hello, Iron Heart.” He bared his teeth further, fingers twitching among the bright cables, and Kuroko stared in horror at the pumping of lights and blood in his gaping chest. “Come for my head at last?”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! We're approaching the end of story~


	8. Convergence

 

 

 

The tension between them was a physical force, perhaps even more so than what Kuroko had felt between Kiyoshi and Admiral Shirogane.

 

“Hanamiya,” Kiyoshi said softly while Kuroko continued to stare. His gun still did not lower. “It _is_ you. I thought you were—”

 

“Dead? Don’t insult me, I’m not you. I don’t die so easily.”

 

“It seems you kill as easily as ever.” Kiyoshi approached him carefully, as one would approach a wild animal. Hanamiya’s throat worked tightly and his arms shifted but he was bound inextricably to the cables surrounding him. To the ship. No wonder Kiyoshi had said it felt wrong. “I assume what we found out there was your work?”

 

His smile went eerily wide, splitting the dry skin of his lips open, eyes sparking blue beneath the green. “But Iron Heart, can’t you see I’m stuck here? Can’t you see my hands? They’re clean.” He laughed, wildly, as Kiyoshi’s jaw clenched.

 

“Just because you didn’t touch them doesn’t make your hands clean, Makoto.”

 

As quickly as the smile had come, it vanished.

 

“Don’t,” he warned in a hiss.

 

“Or what, Makoto? You’ll kill me too?” Kiyoshi shook his head, tapping a finger against his temple. “We’ve already established you can’t take my mind. And from the looks of it, your hands aren’t much use, other than for staying clean.”

 

“You only survived because of your human pet,” Hanamiya sneered. Kuroko suppressed a shudder when his gaze fell on him. It felt like a physical touch, oily and slick with venom. “So unless he feels like shooting you again—and let me tell you how _put out_ I am that I got to miss that show—I wouldn’t be so sure of your safety.”

 

“If you knew you could kill me, you would have done it a long time ago.” Kiyoshi holstered his gun and crouched down, touching some of the cords leading in and out of his body.

 

“Don’t act so high and mighty, Iron Heart. Like you wouldn’t do the same.”

 

“I wouldn’t.”

 

“Not in front of him, maybe. Will you ask him to turn his back? Plug his ears? Don’t worry, it will all be over soon?” Hanamiya laughed, strained. “Do your worst.”

 

“Fortunately for you, the Admiral has other plans for you,” Kiyoshi said quietly, pulling his hand back and surveying their surroundings intently. Hanamiya’s face went serious and still, which was almost more frightening than his wild emotions. “You’ll survive me yet.”

 

“You intend to hand me over to Shirogane again?”

 

 “Those are my orders.”

 

The hostility they spoke to each other with was familiar, and the other Auxiliary’s talk of centuries could only mean one thing. He, too, was one of the Uncrowned Kings, one of Kiyoshi’s old team. When he had spoken of his team, he had made no mention of this kind of relationship—but then again, he had barely spoken of them at all. Assassins, Midorima had called them all. And of this man, Kuroko could truly believe that.

 

<Kiyoshi, we’re here for the AI, not him-->

 

“Bastard,” Hanamiya swore softly. “Quoting orders like always. You could at least have the guts to kill me yourself.”

 

“Kuroko, you can put your gun down. I promise he’s safe.” When Kuroko stayed put, Kiyoshi sighed and rested a hand on one of Hanamiya’s arm. The man curled his lips in a silent snarl but made no discernible movement other than the flex of his fingers.

“Help me disconnect him, please?”

 

Kiyoshi might put himself in harm’s way, but he would never do the same with Kuroko. He holstered his gun warily and approached, eyeing the tangles of cords with a clinical eye.

 

“If we remove them all, he may die.” From the looks of it, he was using the ship as a power source. Not to mention, with his insides exposed and no feasible way to fix that, he would bleed out before they could move him anywhere, as Kiyoshi seemed to desire.

 

<The AI, Kiyoshi—>

 

<Yes, I know.>

 

<We won’t give the information to the Admiral.>

 

<You’re willing to trust the General after all?>

 

<I’m willing to trust the Commander. And my instincts. Tell me where the AI is and I’ll let you deal with him.>

 

Kiyoshi was silent. Not like he hadn’t heard him but like he was ignoring Kuroko. They didn't have time for this.

 

“Kiyoshi, tell me where the AI is. We don’t both need to—”

 

He was interrupted by Hanamiya’s laughter.

 

“Oh, _Iron Heart_ , you haven’t told him?”

 

Kiyoshi remained silent, tugging a wire free. Some of the lights in Hanamiya’s chest went out and he sighed, head tilting back.

 

“Shall I tell you secret, Phantom?”

 

Kuroko blanched at the use of that name, much to his amusement.

 

“I was connected to Central Command for the better part of a century, I know all that they know, idiot. Your name, your evaluations, the fact that you were the one who killed your precious—”

 

“Stop it.” Kuroko’s hand fell to his gun on reflex.

 

“There’s a medkit over there, Kuroko, if you could get it for me,” Kiyoshi said, a touch too loud, pulling yet another cord.

 

“Come now, Teppei, we’re having such a nice conversation.” He hissed as Kiyoshi pulled again.

 

<Please, Kuroko.>

 

Jaw clenching, Kuroko turned and went hunting for the medkit. It was old, but the contents inside were untouched. Kuroko brought the whole kit along, digging out all the adhesive salves and the few skin-growth packs he could find.

 

Horrible as he was, no one deserved this.

 

“How could the AI let this happen?” he asked quietly, mostly to himself.

 

Hanamiya threw back his head completely and laughed, and Kuroko had to look away lest he watch the way his exposed insides shuddered with the movement.

 

“You precious thing! The AI—don’t make me laugh.”

 

<Kiyoshi?>

 

<Don’t listen to him, Kuroko.> His voice and face were both grim, staring intently at the wires entrapping his once-comrade like he meant to pull them apart by will alone.

 

“Come here and let me tell you a thing or two about AI and the fact that it doesn’t fucking exist.”

 

“Hanamiya, don’t—”

 

“Or what, Iron Heart? You’ll kill me? You can’t if you want to follow your beloved orders. I’ve got all the information Command wants in my head.” He snorted derisively. “Pathetic bastard. Listen here, Kuroko—”

 

“Hanamiya!”

 

“It isn’t real. Not the way you think it is.”

 

“How do you mean?” Kuroko couldn’t help asking, dreading what he might say.

 

“Kuroko, don’t listen—”

 

“Exactly what I said. Need me to talk slower? _It’s not real_ , dumbass.”

 

Kiyoshi’s head was bowed, face deeply creased. “Stop it, Hanamiya. This isn’t needed.”

 

“Needed? _Needed?_ Let me tell you about what’s not _needed_ , Iron Heart,” he spat out, seething. “What’s not needed is me tied to this dying wreck for one hundred years while you slept peacefully. What’s not needed is forcing me to slave away for the same group that killed me until I managed to break loose. Don’t talk to me about what’s not needed.”

 

“You can’t let what happened to us make you this way.”

 

“Happened? How dense are you, huh? It’s still happening! Just because you got deemed unusable and tucked away doesn’t mean the rest of us got off so easily!”

 

“I’m sorry this happened to you. I am.”

 

“Liar,” Hanamiya snarled. There wasn’t much heat behind that word though, and he tilted his head back, ignoring them both. He did not breathe like Kiyoshi did, but he seemed weaker with more of the wires free. Kuroko knelt and began applying the first skin-growth patch carefully to the edges of his open chest.

 

“If AI isn’t real,” Kuroko said, dread in his stomach, dread in his throat, dread in his veins, “then what is it?”

 

“Request a more clever one next time, Kiyoshi,” Hanamiya stated, letting out a choked laugh when Kiyoshi gripped his arm too tightly. His voice was eerily calm and steady with his next worse, nothing at all like he had sounded before.

 

“The AI isn’t real, but I am. You get it now? Take an Auxiliary, strap them to a ship,” his fingers flexed again, “and the recipe’s complete.”

 

Kuroko focused on applying the patches, mind whirling.

 

The AI weren’t real, but Hanamiya was. Hanamiya was a person, human—or had been, at least. So the AI’s Kuroko knew, the Tenebris, Eve, those were humans. Humans tied to ships just like Hanamiya was before him.

 

Suddenly the nausea from earlier came back in a wave.

 

“The mission’s not over until we’re back on board,” Kiyoshi said softly.  


Kiyoshi had known. This whole time, he had known. That’s why he had called _Tenebris_ she, why he had believed in her to make the “right” choice. Why she had played favorites with him. She was human.

 

But Kiyoshi was right; the mission wasn’t over.

 

“We won’t have much time to get him back to the Oculus once he’s completely detached from the _Laqueus_ ,” Kiyoshi said, completely unaffected. “The ship will start to shut down. We’ll have to move fast.”

 

“You’ll never make it off this ship,” Hanamiya snarled weakly. Kiyoshi flashed a tight smile.

 

“There’s something you don’t understand, Hanamiya. When I came back, I came back to protect, not to destroy. We’re all making it off this ship.” He leaned in closer, still smiling. “You won’t hurt him ever again.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kuroko watched the _Laqueus_ explode from the safety of the _Oculus_ bridge. It was perfectly silent, as space always was, and when the blast cleared there was only the barest amount of rubble left.

 

The weaponry provided to the Ops was nothing if not efficient.

 

Despite Kiyoshi’s words, they had barely made it to the safety of their ship before the _Laqueus_ started breaking down, Hanamiya limp over Kiyoshi’s shoulders, laughing softly to himself. He was in one of the tiny rooms that they had created a makeshift Med bay out of, now.

 

He had no power now, not without the ship and his connection to Command, but Kuroko still shivered at the thought of traveling with him aboard. Kuroko had never met anyone so dead-set on wreaking havoc and death for the joy of it. Even the Admiral had a purpose and direction, terrible as it was. Even General Imayoshi, unsettling though he was, appeared to have his own morals he did not stray from. Hanamiya was a wild card of catastrophic proportions.

 

Kuroko laid in the course back to the _Arcus_. He would have to contact Akashi soon, but for now there was nothing but to return to Nijimura’s watchful command.

 

He walked slowly to the room he and Kiyoshi shared, pausing outside for a few beats before entering.

 

He was there, in the midst of changing. Hanamiya’s bodily fluids had gotten all over him. Another day, Kuroko would have taken the time to admire the planes of his body. But it was not another day and Kuroko needed answers.

 

“Iron Heart.”

 

Kiyoshi flinched in the midst of pulling off his shirt, letting the material fall back down.

 

“Please don’t call me that, Kuroko.”

 

“It’s what they called you, though. Like people call me the Phantom.”

 

“Well, yes, it’s what they called me, but…I’ve never cared for it.”

 

It suited him perfectly, but Kuroko didn’t think it right to argue that. He turned back, ready to leave despite having just entered.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kuroko asked the door, unwilling to face him like this.

 

“Tell you what—”

 

“Don’t toy with me. Not today.”

 

Kiyoshi sighed. “Because it served no purpose to tell you.”

 

“No purpose—Kiyoshi, these are _human beings_ ,” Kuroko said sharply, turning to meet his calm expression. “These are people. It’s as good as enslavement.”

 

“I know.”

 

“They why did you keep it from me? Why, when I could say something and change how—”

 

“Because you would be upset. And there’s nothing to be done. Even supposing you get someone to believe you, the Fleet is dependent on their ship AI’s for everything.”

 

 “Who else knows?”

 

“Most of Command. The Ops, I’d imagine. All the Auxiliaries. I’m not certain.”

 

  _The Auxiliaries know?_

_Did Ogiwara know too?_

 

“It’s why we can interface with them,” Kiyoshi continued, soft and flat. “We recognize the AI as our own kind.”

 

“It’s horrible.”

 

“It’s been around since the dawn of true artificial intelligence, Kuroko. It’s cruel, but it’s nothing new.”

 

“How can you say that? These are people—”

 

“But they’re not people, Kuroko!” he snapped out. Kiyoshi swallowed hard, looking away, his hands clenching into white-knuckled fists before he clasped them behind his back. “We’re not people. We’re nothing but the remnants. Memories. Ghosts.”

 

 “You can’t believe that.”

 

But he did. Kuroko could see it in his eyes.

 

“If you’re a memory, how can you care for me?” he challenged.

 

“I don’t know, Kuroko. I shouldn’t, but I love you. I couldn’t stop loving you even if I tried.”

 

_Maybe you should have tried_ , Kuroko almost choked out but the fear of it, the terror of the possibility of it coming true, clogged his throat.

 

“Oh, Kuroko.” Kiyoshi’s voice was more breath than sound. “I didn’t mean…” He moved faster than his size should rightfully have allowed, enfolding him securely in his arms.

 

“Let me go,” Kuroko demanded thickly, trying to stay tense even as his eyes stung and Kiyoshi dropped a barely-there kiss on top of his head.

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

“I have to fly the ship.”

 

“The ship can fly itself.”

 

_It_ because the Oculus only had the most rudimentary of AI _, it_ because the Oculus wasn’t really a person being forced to masquerade as a machine—

 

<Breathe, Kuroko. Just breathe.>

 

 “I could order you.”

 

Kiyoshi laughed, holding him tighter. “Can’t imagine that would do you much good.”

 

That was true.

 

“I may only be the remnants of the Kiyoshi Teppei I was when I was alive—really alive. But all of those remnants love you. If I’m nothing but a ghost, I swear I’ll haunt you to the end of our days.”

 

Kuroko wiped his face on his sleeve.

 

“Creep,” he muttered, making Kiyoshi laugh. He tried to imagine Kiyoshi as whole, more vibrant, more alive, more…just more. He couldn’t. He already burned so brightly in Kuroko’s eyes, bright as all the suns and the stars in all the galaxies.

 

He pushed away and this time, Kiyoshi let him go.

 

“What do you want to do, Kuroko?”

 

_I want to close my eyes and forget any of this happened. I want to find freedom. I want Nigou back and I want to kiss you and I want you to never let go. I_ want.

 

“We need to watch over Hanamiya,” he said, “in case his condition worsens. I need to contact Commander Nijimura to inform him of the mission success. And then Akashi, to see about the plan—”

 

“Yes, but what do you want?”

 

Kuroko sighed, deliberating.

 

“Stay with me, Kiyoshi.”

 

“Always. Of course.”

 

Kuroko had already known his answer, but hearing it again was a small comfort.

 

“Kiyoshi? Don’t lie to me like that again either. Not about something so important.”

 

He bowed his head, but Kuroko could still see his dark eyes, calculating. “I will try.”

 

It was less than what he wanted, but more than he expected. He waited a few breaths before speaking his next request. Something selfish.

 

“Is there a way that I can speak to Tenebris?”

 

“Not without it being picked up. If it’s something small, I can speak to her for you, if you like.”

 

“Tell her…” Kuroko swallowed hard. “Tell her that I know. Tell her that I’m sorry.”

 

Kiyoshi nodded once, tightly, gaze going distant. Not but a few moments later, a pained expression flashed across his face.

 

“She says,” he said, very carefully, “not to be sorry. If she was not what she was—”

 

He stopped short and reached out, curling his hands over Kuroko’s shoulders and smiling, a suspicious sparkle in his gaze.

 

“If she was not what she was, she would never have met you.”

 

_If I was not what I was, I would never have met you_.

 

Kuroko could have cried. He nodded. I’m glad I could meet you, he tried to say but the words wouldn’t come, stuck fluttering in his chest. If Kiyoshi had died human, or not become one of the Uncrowned, he would not be here. He would not be his.

 

And while it would have been better that way, Kuroko could not bring himself to be sorry for the loss of a peaceful afterlife for Kiyoshi. It was terrible, the life he lived now, but if this was the only life in which he could have Kiyoshi, he would take it.

 

He would choose this, every time.

 

“I have to contact the Commander,” he said hoarsely. “Look after Hanamiya, please.”

 

And he fled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nijimura was stoic as ever throughout Kuroko’s report that the retrieval mission had been a success. Kuroko was tempted to ask him for the truth about AI but he held his tongue. Even if he did know the truth, Kuroko doubted he would be so easily convinced to share it. And good instincts only went so far.

 

“We will return to the _Arcus_ in two days time,” Kuroko ended his report.

 

“Excellent work, Operative Kuroko. I expect there will be no trouble with the return journey.” He hesitated, only a fraction of a second, but it was noticeable to Kuroko’s watchful gaze. He saw the crease in his forehead, the concerned twist to his mouth. “Is there anything else you would like to report?”

 

_Artificial intelligence isn’t real. The Fleet has been enslaving former human beings for centuries with no one knowing. But you know. You know and you’re doing nothing to help them._

“No, sir,” Kuroko replied blandly. “There’s nothing.”

 

Nijimura nodded slowly, thoughtful—as though they had reached an understanding.

 

The message was clear. It was fine for Kuroko to know the truth, so long as he did not make any attempt to talk about it. That knowledge was almost more sickening than the original horror he felt upon discovering the truth.

 

The connection cut out and Kuroko stared instead out at the stars, sitting pointlessly in the pilot’s seat as the _Oculus_ continued to take them back.

 

Maybe Kiyoshi was right. Maybe it was too late, maybe there was nothing to be done anymore. But Kuroko didn’t want to believe that. He couldn’t believe that. If everyone knew the truth, surely they would fight for the right thing.

 

_But most do not even think the keeping of Auxiliaries is wrong._

 

 Kuroko stood.

 

There was nothing to be done. For now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Morning dawned and it was clear that Hanamiya would not make it back alive to the _Arcus_ , let alone back to Central Command. It would make the plan easier, Kuroko thought, but his deterioration was a dreadful thing to watch. 

 

Kiyoshi insisted on staying with Hanamiya, leaving Kuroko to do what he had been putting off.

 

Akashi was not alone when he called. Midorima stood nearby, stiffly nodding in greeting when Kuroko bid them both hello.

 

“There’s someone who would like to speak with you,” Akashi said, waving someone off the screen forward. Kuroko’s heart sped up, hopeful, even before the three familiar faces came into view.

 

“Lieutenant Kuroko,” Furihata saluted smartly, as did Fukuda and Kawahara, all wearing relieved smiles. “It’s good to see you again, sir.”

 

“They wouldn’t not let another moment past without speaking with you.” Akashi sounded faintly amused, but Furihata went red.

 

“We were concerned for your safety, sir. After what happened…”

 

“I’m well,” he assured the three of them.

 

“And…and Kiyoshi?” Kawahara ventured.

 

Kuroko swallowed. “He’s well. He…is occupied at the moment, but I’m sure he would send his best.”

 

They all visibly relaxed. They no longer wore their Fleet uniforms, but more casual wear that the others must have procured for them. Midorima still dressed in his Research uniform, but he had always been a stickler for proper dress codes.

 

“You’ll be coming to us soon, right, sir?” Kawahara asked eagerly. “You’ll be joining us on the Vorpal?”

 

_The Vorpal?_ The name had to be Akashi’s doing.

 

“If all goes well, I’ll be seeing you soon,” he assured them, trying for a smile. Only Furihata seemed unconvinced, but they all saluted and left the room after promising to keep working diligently with the Miracles.

 

“I hope they’re not causing trouble for you.”

 

“Hardly,” Midorima said, a bare hint of praise in his tone. “They have much to learn, but they work hard.”

 

“Something happened,” Akashi said once they were alone once more, staring intently at him.

 

A great number of things had happened, not that Kuroko thought there was a point in getting into all of them. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his head.

 

He needed to tell them. He needed to tell them, because if he didn’t tell someone, he would lose all the fine shreds of his control that he had left. And because the Miracles, whether they would admit to it or not, had abandoned their lives for his sake; for the sake of saving him, for the sake of joining his fight for the truth. Kuroko had never been so touched by something they had done, however foolish it was.

 

No. It was not foolish. They were too idealistic, maybe, but that did not make them fools. Or if it did, they were fools together.

 

“What do you know about artificial intelligence?” Kuroko led with.

 

“There’s a long history of humankind working to achieve true artificial intelligence,” Akashi said, leaning back in his chair. “For centuries scientists worked without ever getting closer.”

 

“And then?” Kuroko prompted when he stopped. Akashi continued, slower.

 

“And then, miraculously, they were able to do it. Not long after the advent of the second generation of Auxiliaries.”

 

Midorima closed his eyes and bowed his head, but Akashi looked even more intense than before.

 

“Kuroko, what did you find out?”

 

“We’ve all been lied to.” Kuroko hesitated for a moment, wishing selfishly that Kiyoshi was beside him instead of with Hanamiya.

 

<I’m here. I’m here, Kuroko.>

 

Kuroko took a steady breath. “True AI was never achieved.”

 

“The Auxiliaries,” Midorima said, quite but fierce. “That’s despicable.”

 

“No more despicable than having Auxiliaries in the first place.”

 

Kuroko clenched his hands into fists, short nails digging into the meat of his palms. The casual way he said it rankled. They hadn’t seen, they couldn’t understand the horror or it, the _wrongness._

 

<May I, Kuroko? I can show them.>

 

<Please.>

 

The moment they received the visual of Hanamiya from Kiyoshi was obvious from the way they flinched.

 

“That is the so-called AI we were sent to remove,” Kuroko said icily.

 

“An Auxiliary,” Akashi murmured.

 

“A human,” Midorima said, strained. “And this is what you are meant to deliver to the Admiral? A person that he has already destroyed and wishes to tear apart further?”

 

The vehemence in his voice was unexpected, but Kuroko was glad that they finally seemed to understand the beginnings of Kuroko’s fury.

 

“No wonder the Ops don’t make use of AI,” Akashi had the same look on his face as when he first stared down at a chess board—picking out his moves. “If the AI is human, and therefore a liability, it makes more sense to maintain manual operations. I should have seen this. I should have known.”

 

But none of them could have known. None of them could have guessed such a terrible thing.

 

Akashi sat up straighter. “Midorima, please pass the word along to the others. I’ll not have us fighting in the dark.”

 

He touched the goggles around his neck, nodded again towards Kuroko, and stepped out of the line of the screen.

 

“Kuroko,” Akashi said warmly, a smile in his voice even though his face remained intensely focused. “How do you feel about dying?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“It’s too simple,” Kiyoshi argued again as Kuroko sat in the pilot’s chair, not navigating, but still watching the passing stars and planets. It was too late for any arguments, valid or not. The entire crew of the _Vorpal_ , his friends would all be there soon. And they would be, for all intents and purposes, blow to pieces across the heavens.

 

Hanamiya’s body and the information he carried would be gone, forever out of the Admiral’s reach.

 

“If Akashi says it will work, it will work.”

 

“You haven’t seen him in years, how can you—”

 

“Because he’s my friend. I haven’t known you for even a year, Kiyoshi. Should I not trust you?”

 

Kiyoshi rubbed the back of his neck, smiling. “Maybe not.”

 

Kuroko quickly looked away. It was only the truth, but he had no time for doubts.

 

“I trust Akashi with my life.” _And yours_.

 

“Then that’s enough for me.”

 

That was doubtful, but Kuroko thought Kiyoshi trusted him. There was a conviction, at least, in his voice that steadied him.

 

“Iron Heart,” Kuroko murmured, tracing the way his uniform hugged to his body. Kiyoshi turned his head to face him, the faint blue behind his dark eyes barely visible with the lights on.

 

“I’ll get mad if you keep calling me that, even if it is you.”

 

Kuroko didn’t doubt that he would be angry, but he doubted he would act on it in any discernible way.

 

“Did the rest of the Uncrowned Kings have names like that?”

 

“Nothing that stuck,” Kiyoshi sighed, a frown gracing his features.

 

“Hanamiya?”

 

Kiyoshi snorted. “The only thing people called him was a sadist.”

 

It wasn’t a hard thing to imagine. Kuroko felt sick every time he thought of Hanamiya’s smile, or the way he laughed. The way his eyes followed people like it was only a matter of time before he found a way to break them.“Was he always like that?”

 

“For as long as I knew him. In life and…” he made a gesture to himself. “He seems…worse. Less in control than he used to be.”

 

Kuroko couldn’t imagine how they might have worked together as a team, how Kiyoshi’s stalwart and quietly manipulative nature could coordinate with Hanamiya’s biting, destructive energy.

 

If they had managed it, they must have been terrifying. That was without the rest of the team involved.

 

“They called you Kings. Why?”

 

“Kings? I wouldn’t say that. We were a means to an end. They called us the ones who would make them kings. They wanted the Emperor’s crown.”

 

“And you gave it to them.”

 

“Not by any will of our own.”

 

“It still happened. Willing or not.”

 

Kiyoshi laughed, a soft burst of air, before approaching, hands curling around the armrests as he leaned down and effectively boxed him in, gazing down at Kuroko with raised brows. “Trying to make me feel guilty for my past crimes, Kuroko?”

 

“I’m just trying to understand.”

 

“You remember how persuasive Admiral Shirogane was.” He paused there, considering. “His predecessor, the one who created us, was even more so. And when you’re a new Auxiliary, even if you have your personality and memories intact, things are…different. Everything is fresh, commands are absolute. It’s only as time goes on that you find you are able to disobey.”

 

Kuroko stared up at him, trying to read anything from his features but finding as usual that he saw only what Kiyoshi wanted him to see. The way he loomed over him should have felt threatening but instead it brought a troubling, fluttering warmth to his body. He kept his face still, a mirror to Kiyoshi’s own.

 

“Hanamiya said you were killed by them. By Central Command.”

 

“My team was a liability. We had found out certain things and were on our way to report to our Captain when Command…intercepted. They turned us, made us into a team they could use for their own purposes. The rest is history.” A smile curved his lips for an instant. “Literally.”

 

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

 

“Of course it bothers me. Either way, I would have ended an Auxiliary, as we all do.” He leaned down a little closer, brushing the hair from Kuroko’s face. “I would have died young, as most Fleet officers do. But I can’t regret it. I died trying to do the right thing. I can’t think of a better way to die than that.”

 

Kiyoshi didn’t seem like a person who hung onto regrets. Kuroko could understand that, a little. Regret was a heavy burden.

 

He knew that all too well.

 

_If you aim right for the ports, Tetsuya, it won’t hurt at all. It’ll be over in an instant._

 

_Please stop telling me these things—_

 

_I’m just saying, Tetsuya, if you’re going to take one of us down, that’s the way to do it—_

 

“Did you really kill Ogiwara?”

 

“The information is in my file,” Kuroko replied automatically. Kiyoshi exhaled through his nose.

 

“‘Regrettably, there was a loss of one Auxiliary on this mission—‘”

 

“Don’t,” Kuroko warned. The words of the report were as familiar as breathing, even after all this time. “Please don’t.”

 

“I wouldn’t have to if you would just answer me.”

 

Kuroko closed his eyes. The heat coming off Kiyoshi’s body was a physical force. A shield, a protective circle that drew him in and wouldn’t let go. “He asked me to. Begged me. He was injured, but not badly enough to die. And that was what he wanted.”

 

Kiyoshi’s touch on his face was expected but it still made him shiver.

 

“I’m not going to tell you that you did the right thing, Kuroko,” he murmured. “You should never raise your hands to those you love.”

 

“I know what I did was wrong,” he choked out. “I don’t need you to remind me.”

 

“I never said it was wrong.”

 

“Then what are you trying to say?”

 

Kuroko opened his eyes, almost surprised to see Kiyoshi still leaning over him, still so close yet not close enough.

 

“I’m not sure myself.” His lips pulled into a tiny smile that seemed more real than the others he flashed around so easily. “But you did what you had to so your friend could rest easy. No one can fault you for that.”

 

_I can._

 

They would be back the _Arcus_ soon and Kuroko dreaded it more than anything. A small alarm went off, drawing Kiyoshi away from him and leaving him cold.

 

“Hanamiya,” he said. “He must be worse. You rest, I’ll see to him.”

 

How Kuroko was supposed to rest without him there was a mystery to him. Kuroko finally stood and retreated to their room, curling into the space Kiyoshi had claimed to see if his scent still lingered. Counting the seconds just to pass to the time, to fill the space of his mind and force all the memories he couldn’t handle a little farther away.

 

It wasn’t right, what had happened. But it wasn’t wrong. It’s just what had happened. It was not a comforting thought, but there was something clarifying about it. Something cleansing.

 

Kuroko touched his bracelet.

 

Tonight, it did not feel so heavy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The closer to the _Arcus_ they got, the further Hanamiya’s condition worsened.

 

Kuroko looked at him and only saw the tortured bodies of the Auxiliaries he had possessed and destroyed so easily, like it was nothing. Like their lives mean nothing to him.

 

He could not feel sympathy for him. Pity, though, he could.

 

_Does it hurt_ , Kuroko was tempted to ask. _Do you feel pain?_ Instead he sat quietly, gazing at the crudely healed chest that did not rise with breath, at the sickly flash of lights beneath Hanmiya’s too-thin skin.

 

“Come to sit my vigil, Phantom?” His voice wheezed, hollow and tinny.

 

“Kiyoshi will be here soon,” he told him, wondering if it would be a comfort. They spoke to each other with a worn-down animosity so it was hard to tell if either of them had considered the other truly to be a friend. Perhaps they felt a kinship from having died and been reborn together.

 

“Iron Heart,” he scoffed. “He shouldn’t bother. I can’t imagine I’ll be in this shithole much longer.”

 

Kuroko’s hands clenched together tightly in his lap. There was an edge of longing in Hanamiya’s voice that frightened him. It made him remember the longing in Ogiwara’s voice, the plaintive desiring, _if you love me you must—_

 

“Upset that Central won’t have time for their extraction?” He managed a thin laugh, fingers twitching uselessly on top of the sheet. “I’ve corrupted most of the data by now. Those bastards won’t get anything else out of me.” Willfully corrupting his own drives would only speed up the inevitable. Kuroko felt sick but couldn’t tell if it was because of the lost information or the fact that Hanamiya so desperately wished to die.

 

Hanamiya’s eyes were dull. Heat rose off him like an overworked furnace, the smell of hot metal hovering like a pawl. He heard the doors open and Kiyoshi’s familiar footsteps, one heavier than the other.

 

<Sorry for leaving you alone,> he said to Kuroko silently, resting his hand on his head briefly. It was warm. Would there come a day with Kiyoshi, too, would no longer be able to survive as his wirings and drives corroded and decomposed? Would he too end his second life in the Medical bay, slowly overheating until there was nothing left of him? _I’m fine_ , he wanted to say. _It’s fine_.

 

He managed to nod.

 

“I need you to tell him something. Tell the Iron Heart.”

 

“I’m here, Hanamiya.” Kiyoshi sat on the bed by his legs, taking his ruined hand between both of his. “I’m here.”

 

“Iron Heart.” Something about his expression relaxed. “We’re out there. The rest of us, the Kings. They kept us awake, except for you.” Kiyoshi went tense, his head bowed over their hands.

 

“I know.”

 

“Admiral wants us all back, I bet. All his little pets, nice and neat.” He choked out a wheezing laugh. “He’s going to use you, Iron Heart. He’s going to use you to kill us and then he’s going to kill you.”

 

“What is it you suggest I do, Hanamiya?”

 

“Call them together. All the Kings. If you’re together you can take him down.” His grin was manic and bloodstained. “Like old times.”

 

“The times have changed, Hanamiya. We are not what we once were.”

 

“Nor are they. They think we are weaker than the new Auxiliaries. They think they can control us as they once did. But if they see you, the rest of us will rise. I know they will.” He coughed. “If I could kill him myself I would. Pathetic as you are, you’re all I have to carry on my legacy.”

 

“I’m not your puppet.”

 

“But are you willing to be his?”

 

All the light filtered from him. His cracked lips stayed parted, eyes open and staring sightlessly. He did not move again.

 

Hanamiya Makoto was dead.

 

Kiyoshi clutched tightly at his hand for several more moments, perhaps saying a prayer, perhaps just in silent relief that he was gone at last.

 

“Would you like to be alone?” Kuroko ventured, making Kiyoshi laugh.

 

“No. Gods, no.” At last he let go, eyes bright with tears. “I think he might come back to kill me if I cried over his body.”

 

What was left of his body anyway. Kuroko pulled the blanket up over his face, wishing they could be truly rid of him instead of carrying his shell along.

 

“We’ll be at the Arcus soon,” he said.

 

“Yes. An hour, maybe a little more. Are you ready, Kuroko?”

 

He doubted he could ever be truly ready, but there was no helping it.

 

There was no helping any of it. Kuroko said a quick, silent prayer despite his intentions to let Hanamiya go.

 

No one deserved to die like that, not even someone as terrible as him. And they held a common enemy.

 

“He’ll pay for this,” Kuroko said at long last.

 

“I don’t think there’s an afterlife for Auxiliaries, Kuroko,” was Kiyoshi’s subdued reply.

 

“The Admiral, I meant.”

 

One hand fell to Kuroko’s shoulder and squeezed gently but his face was colder than he had ever seen it.

 

“He will.”

 

It was a promise and a threat all in one.

 

Hell hath no fury.

 

“You and I. You don’t think we’ll go to the same place when we die?”

 

Kiyoshi was silent, considering.

 

“I think,” he said, “that wherever you go, I will follow. No matter what. But you’re too young to talk of dying yet.”

 

Kuroko couldn’t help thinking that he was the same age Kiyoshi had been when his team had been brutally slaughtered by Command and drafted as Auxiliaries. _Most of us die young. Why is that?_ Even General Imayoshi was young, barely into his thirties, but was considered long-lived.

 

Things had to change. So many things.

 

_Stay with me._

_Always, Of course._

They left the room containing Hanamiya’s shell to prepare for their return to the Ops. They would have to move fast if they expected to trick the Ops into thinking they had been killed by the blasts they knew were coming.

 

One would aim for the storage bay where Hanamiya’s body had been ushered off to once Kuroko and Kiyoshi had come back aboard the _Arcus._

The second would be at Kuroko’s room.

 

Providing they didn’t _actually_ die, the plan was foolproof.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Their welcome back was subdued, a mere perfunctory greeting from the officers working the docks, a short word of approval about his efficiency from Nijimura. It was still strange to be met with silence from the ship, but knowing the origins of the AI Kuroko was glad of it.

 

He tried not to think of  _Tenebris._ He tried not to think of her crew and their rowdy, warm welcomes to returning officers after most missions.

 

In fact, Kuroko decided it was better not to think at all.

 

Conversely, Kiyoshi seemed utterly lost in his thoughts as they took Hanamiya—the  _Laqueus,_ they kept calling him, which was not wrong but it was not  _right_. It didn’t matter what they did with him now; Kiyoshi confirmed before leaving the  _Oculus_  that Hanamiya had corrupted his own drives beyond all recognition. Even if his body made it to the Admiral, there was nothing he could learn from it.

 

“Did he tell you what it was the Admiral wanted?”

 

“He hinted at things.”

 

And he would say no more on the subject. He did, however, reluctantly divulge information on the rest of the Uncrowned Kings to Kuroko when he asked.

 

“There’s no telling where any of them are,” he added. “Not unless there are more Dutchman ships floating about. Even then, I won’t find official records of them, and if delve too far into the unofficial records, it will be noticed.”

 

“Do you want to see them again?”

 

Kiyoshi had no answer for a while.

 

“Hanamiya is right. If we banded together again, we could take down the Admiral. But he would only be replaced by a successor, someone hand-picked by him. Killing him won’t solve anything. And your Akashi’s plan just might.” He rubbed at his prosthetic leg idly, and Kuroko had to wonder whether his leg injury had come before or after his first death. “I would not pass up an opportunity to see them again, but I can’t justify wanting to.”

 

 “If you want to, isn’t that justification enough?”

 

He only laughed. “Maybe so, Kuroko. Maybe so.”

 

Perhaps Takao could find some leads. Kuroko would have to ask him once they were aboard the  _Vorpal._

 

The whole day was unbearably tense. Kuroko kept his head down and did his work, willing himself to be unnoticeable to avoid any questions. And for the most part he went ignored, but Kiyoshi still drew sideways glances and the occasional stare. If the continuing attention troubled him, he gave no sign of it, diligently working at his side as the hours dragged on by.

 

The Miracles all checked in with him during the day, as did Kagami and the little-known Himuro. Some just wanted to verify details of the plan, but the rest seemed just to be excited about his impending arrival. None spoke of any potential mishaps, except for Midorima, but even then it felt routine; their faith in Akashi was absolute.

 

Faith or not, Kuroko couldn’t keep down his nerves.

 

“Weren’t you the one saying you trusted him?” Kiyoshi asked, bemused, as they waited for the signal in their shared room. It was after-hours. Each wore a protective flight suit that would keep them alive once they were exposed to the airless cold of space, except for the helmets which would come last. Kiyoshi sat in the single chair they were allotted, watching Kuroko as he paced restlessly.

 

“Him, I trust. I trust all of them.” It was the reaction time of the other officers he was concerned about—it was one of them getting hurt that he was concerned about. Minimized damages, Akashi had promised.

 

“You’re very kind, Kuroko, to worry about people that care nothing for you.”

 

“You don’t have to tell me I’m foolish.” He already knew.

 

“Kind, Kuroko. Not foolish. You’re going to wear a hole in the floor, pacing like that.”

 

Kuroko came to a stop in front of him, facing him with crossed arms. The vantage point was different, looking down at Kiyoshi instead of up.

 

His eyes had caught the light of the stars and seemed to blaze with an inner fire, otherworldly in their dark warmth. The relaxed smile made him seem younger than he was, too. Kuroko found himself stepping forward even though he was already well into his personal space, found himself leaning down with one hand on the chair and the other turning his face insistently towards him.

 

Kiyoshi’s gaze was expectant and unafraid, and when he blinked he imagined he could hear the soft displacement of air from his eyelashes. The gradient of browns was exquisite and there—the fain reflection of blue from his own eyes.

 

Kissing him just felt like the next natural thing to do.

 

It was warm, far too intent for a first kiss. His chapped lips moved with him as he led, opened for him when he pressed, and smiled against his briefly when Kuroko’s fingers buried in his hair. His tongue darted out almost playfully and he instinctively deepened the kiss. He tasted like tea and the heat of summer air.

 

Kuroko didn’t ever want to stop but the light touch of his hand on his chest made him draw back.

 

Kiyoshi’s expression was so open, his lips swollen. Kuroko’s fingers were still in his hair but he couldn’t find it within him to let go. Kuroko swallowed hard, urging his suddenly interested privates _to shut up_ by sheer force of will with only a modicum of success.

 

“For good luck,” he managed to say calmly.

 

“If it’s luck you’re giving, I could use a little more.”

 

He pulled him back down forcibly, one huge hand curling around the back of his neck, and Kiyoshi pressed his lips to Kuroko’s with searing intensity. Kuroko caught himself on his shoulders when his knees threatened to give out, but was too distracted by the pure sensation to care, moving instinctively closer. It wasn’t often that people caught him speechless or off his guard. _And yet with you, I’m like this._ Kuroko pushed a little more, giving the kiss an edge of demand. _It’s foolish. And yet._

 

Eventually they had to pull apart, but more than ever, it was hard to keep his hands off of him. They retreated to the spot that Kiyoshi had determined would be the safest—comparatively—once the attack came.

 

It was not long to wait for the signal. Only enough for one more kiss.

 

Even knowing the blast was coming, it was startling in its sheer destructiveness.

 

The noise followed by the sudden lack of noise, the slippage in the artificial gravity field and false atmosphere that turned his stomach in a way reminiscent of the anti-gravity simulations that Kuroko had to endlessly repeat back in training; the solid bulk of Kiyoshi’s body blocked out most of the rubble that flew past.

 

Despite Kiyoshi’s physically surrounding him, they were thrown to one side, Kuroko’s head striking the wall as they spun wildly before Kiyoshi grabbing him tighter and stopping their fall by punching one hand through the floor and holding on.

 

<Kuroko, you’re hurt—>

 

His head hurt, even with the helmet protecting him from the worst of it, but there was no time to consider it. <I’ll be fine. You’re not hurt? Your hand?>

 

<I’m fine. Let’s move.>

 

It was a Command ship that lurked just outside the blown wreckage of Kuroko’s quarters, but he knew it was a borrowed vessel. It was the Vorpal’s crew that waited for them on board, not an envoy from the Admiral as was Kuroko’s primal fear at seeing the sleek white and silver ship.

 

<We don’t have much time,> Akashi said needlessly.

 

Even as he spoke, the door to Kuroko’s room blasted forward. Kiyoshi dragged him up to his feet with little urging and they moved as quickly as they could to where Akashi waited.

 

“Stop right there!” 

 

 It was too late; Nijimura had seen them. His dark eyes were wide in shock as he took in the scene. Kiyoshi’s grip, even through the protective suit, was tight enough to bruise as he kept moving forward and dragging Kuroko with him.

 

“Operative Kuroko, where do you think you’re going?” his voice came through the speaker built into the suit.

 

“I’m sorry, sir.” He reached for his gun but Nijimura was faster.

 

“You _will_ be sorry if you don’t stop.”

 

The airlock opened behind them but Kuroko didn’t dare turn around, not when Nijimura’s gun was level with his head. But the Commander’s face went pale, mouth going soft from surprise; Kuroko could see his lips form a name.

 

_Akashi._

 

His gun went down at once and Kiyoshi tossed Kuroko over the gap into Akashi’s waiting arms before leaping after. Akashi urged them to stand behind him; perhaps he said something Nijimura, perhaps he didn’t. But the Commander simply stood there, watching.

 

<Don’t fuck this up, Kuroko,> were his parting words, low and fast.

 

The airlock doors slammed closed and Kuroko yanked his helmet free with shaking hands, Kiyoshi following suit at his side. The moment he was free, Akashi was on him with a tight, brief embrace.

 

“Never make me have to do something like that again,” he said before letting go.

“How?”

 

“Hm?” His eyes were roving over Kuroko still, presumably looking for injuries. Kiyoshi edged slightly closer to him.

 

“What did you tell Commander Nijimura? There’s no way he should have let us go.”

“I told you, Kuroko, he’s a family connection.”

 

Kuroko stayed silent. It had to be more than that. With a sigh, Akashi relented.

 

“We are—or were, rather—friends. We were neighbors when I was small and he helped look after me. there is some…lingering sentiment. Did you hit your head?”

 

“A bit.” It ached and he felt faintly ill, now that the adrenaline was starting to drain away.

 

“We’ll get you to Medical. And you? Kiyoshi Teppei, is it? Any injuries or malfunctions to report?”

 

“None, thank you.”

 

That was all Kuroko heard as the world faded around him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He awoke in an unfamiliar Med bay, alone.

 

Was he on the _Vorpal_ or were they still in transit? Kuroko sat up and spotted Furihata asleep, scrunched up on a chair that had been dragged to his bedside. Two more chairs were to his right and left, but they were empty.

 

“He refused to leave,” Midorima’s voice said, startling him. The man stood at the foot of his bed, having miraculously appeared without a sound, and scrolling through a dataplate. “The others I convinced into resting in their rooms. It seems you have a gift for inspiring loyalty, Kuroko.

 

 “Mild concussion,” Midorima went on to state clinically without waiting for Kuroko’s response. “Minor abrasions. You’re in one piece, thanks to you staying out of the immediate radius of the blast.”

 

“Kiyoshi?” he asked, voice raspy and dry. Midorima handed him a cup of water without being asked, then touched his goggles lightly. By the time he spoke, Kuroko’s heart was beating fast enough to make him feel ill.

 

“He is unharmed. He’s…different than I had imagined.”

 

Kuroko couldn’t old back a smile. “He’s strange,” he agreed.

 

Midorima’s answering smile was small and fleeting, but warm. “I can see why you stayed. I don’t agree with what you did, but,” the sound of laughter and a familiar pair of footsteps approached; Midorima looked away reflexively, sharp gaze focusing on his dataplate instead, “I can see.”

 

Kuroko hadn’t thought they were being that obvious, but Midorima was second only to Akashi and Momoi when it came to being perceptive.

 

Even if he had been able to explain himself—or wanted to—Kiyoshi came rushing through the Med bay doors before he had the time to speak.

 

 “Kuroko!” he exclaimed, taking an immediate seat beside him on the bed despite Midorima’s comment that he shouldn’t be jostled around. “You’re finally awake.”

 

“Was I out long?”

 

“Long enough.” <I was worried. Does it hurt still?>

 

“I’m perfectly fine. Midorima is a good doctor.”

 

“I’m in Research,” he said unnecessarily, but the tips of his ears turned red. Furihata finally stirred awake with the noise. When he saw Kuroko awake and sitting up, he scrambled to his feet with wide eyes.

 

“Lieutenant!” he rasped out, clearing his throat and saluting while trying to straighten his clothes at the same time. There were deepset shadows beneath his bright eyes. “Y-You’re okay?”

 

“I am,” he assured him. “You should go rest properly, Furihata. Please.”

 

The cadet ran off, saying something about telling the others that Kuroko was now awake.

 

“It’s a fine ship. Akashi and the others gave me the grand tour while you slept.” His smiled widened, soft and unbearably beautiful. “You have good friends.”

 

Midorima stepped away, leaving them alone. With all the Miracles together, Kuroko doubted there would be much time they would have to themselves, and he was grateful for this single moment.

 

“So this is the Vorpal?”

 

“Part of it, anyway. The name Vorpal refers to the fleet.”

 

“The fleet?”

 

“For all that’s happened, I’d say four ships is as good a fleet as any.”

 

Four whole ships. It felt unbelievable that they had so much.

 

“Hanamiya’s gone now,” Kuroko said, not quite a question but still needing to confirm it. Kiyoshi  nodded.

 

“He and whatever the Admiral wanted from him.”

 

Kiyoshi’s shoulders suddenly shook with silent laughter.

 

 “What is it?”

 

“Fireworks,” he whispered.

 

Kuroko started laughing. He laughed until he cried, holding onto Kiyoshi for support. Kiyoshi held him back, even tighter, until Midorima walked past and cleared his throat loudly.

 

But even then, Kiyoshi did not let go.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	9. Fortune

 

 

It was surreal, being aboard the _Gladius_ —the lead ship of the _Vorpal_ fleet. Except for Akashi, Momoi, and the cadets, the ship was empty. Midorima returned to his own ship, the _Armis_ , after ascertaining that Kuroko’s head would be fine.

 

Murasakibara and Himuro were piloting the _Clypeus_ , and that left Aomine, Kagami, and Kise on the _Animus._

 

To Kuroko’s unspeakable relief, all the ships were manually run.

 

 “Takao was still familiar enough with the black market to get us well-equipped,” Akashi explained as he led Kuroko through a brief tour. Kiyoshi had been loath to leave him alone, but he had the cadets keeping him busy. “And thanks to Murasakibara and Himuro’s coding, we’re completely untraceable. These ships are as safe as the universe gets.”

 

“I’m grateful,” Kuroko started to say, only to choke on the rest of the words. He was grateful. For the rescue, for their friendship—for everything.

 

But now that he was safe, he knew he couldn’t stay that way.

 

He had to find a way to fix things. To change things. Kuroko had no earthly idea how he could, but the need to help the Auxiliaries was more important than that uncertainty.

 

Akashi did not press him to finish, returning to showing him around without missing a beat.

 

The soonest opportunity he had, Kuroko shuttled over to the next ship. He needed to see them, in person. All of them. It had been too long.

 

Kagami ran across the deck to meet him, Aomine not far behind, and swept Kuroko off his feet with the force of his hug, half-yelling his joy. Kuroko could only laugh and hug him back even when his chest ached for air, a feeling that only intensified when Aomine threw a gruff arm around both of them. It was a good ache.

 

 “How’s life as a dead man, Kuroko?” came Kise’s voice. He wormed his way into the embrace despite the other two’s protests.

 

“Never better,” Kuroko replied when they finally released him. “I’d recommend the afterlife to anyone.”

 

They all cracked up, more than a little hysterical.

 

If you didn’t laugh, you’d cry. That was how it had always been. 

 

They all laughed, and ever so briefly, the world was at peace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“There’s a real storm brewing,” Momoi told him happily over dinner. The fleet had docked together and they were all crammed in at the same table on the _Gladius._

 

All except for Kiyoshi, who had dragged the cadets off the kitchen to eat together for dinner, claiming that they needed the time and space. Kuroko felt strangely alone without him by his side, but he also felt very blessed to have his friends back with him again. If he stretched out his mind he could feel Kiyoshi stretch back, warm and silent. It was a comfort.

 

 “The Ops is this close to declaring all-out war on Central Command, after they refused to own up to attacking an Ops ship and killing an officer.” Her smile was bright and easy, avoiding Murasakibara’s elbow on instinct as he reached for second helpings.

 

Kuroko had never wanted war. Surely the world could change without it coming to that level of violence.

 

 “This is what we wanted,” Akashi said with a nod.

 

 “War?” Midorima asked sharply. “That was never my aim.”

 

Kagami hummed his agreement around a mouthful of rice.

 

 “Don’t misunderstood. Attention. Disruption. That was the aim, other than getting Kuroko to safety. War might be an unavoidable side effect of these things, depending on the Admiral’s next move.”

 

 “What _is_ his next move?” Kise asked, chin propped in his hands. Akashi glanced across the table at him thoughtfully; his eyes were faintly bloodshot, testament to his tireless efforts lately.

 

 “It’s too soon to say.”

 

 “Bullshit,” Aomine said flatly. Momoi elbowed him, but he wasn’t stopping. “You have an idea. We need to know too.”

 

A long silence fell.

 

“I don’t know. Truly.”

 

His admission was a shock, but it felt dull—not quite real. What felt real was Kagami’s bulk beside him, the almost too warm air from being pressed together.

 

 “No offense, Akashi,” Himuro spoke, his tone polite but his eyes hard, “but I came with Atsushi under the assumption that you had a plan.”

 

 “The plan is to survive.” Momoi was the one to respond.

 

 “That’s always the plan,” Takao said dryly, “in a general sense. Not gonna lie, oh Captain, it’d be nice to have some details cleared up.”

 

 “Momoi’s correct. Until I can get a full grasp on the atmosphere we’ve created, anything I have to say is little more than speculation. I will say this—when he makes his move, it will have to be soon. The Fleet’s getting restless. Particularly the ships under General Imayoshi’s command.”

 

Kuroko wondered if word had reached the _Tenebris_ yet. Would they be sad for his loss? Relieved that a traitor was gone? He couldn’t really believe that, but neither could that stop the doubt from lingering.

 

There was little enough to say after that. The conversation turned to lighter things—Kise had finally pierced his other ear, Murasakibara’s hair was longer than anyone, save Midorima from growing up together, had seen it. Akashi laughed about his father’s reaction to his desertion. It was a strained sound with little mirth, but they laughed with him. Kagami and Aomine regaled them with stories from the Border.

 

Kuroko quietly took the chance to slip away, not that anyone but Takao took notice. He shot him a wink and didn’t say a word.

 

The cadets were gone, but Kiyoshi still lingered in the kitchen, eyes half-closed as he leaned back against the counter.

 

“Eavesdropping?”

 

Kiyoshi’s lips curved up in a slow smile. Kuroko couldn’t hear much other than laughter and an indistinct hum of conversation, but he had no doubt Kiyoshi could hear more.

“A bit.”

 

 “And? Learn anything new?”

 

He hummed, opening his eyes as Kuroko took another step closer.  “You have good friends,” he said. “I can see why your training records called you Miracles. You’re strong, together.”

 

“I’m lucky to have them.”

 

“No.” Kiyoshi shook his head. “I think they’re lucky to have you.”

 

Kuroko wasn’t quite sure how to take that. With a glance towards the closed door leading out to the dining area, Kuroko stepped closer again, into the space between Kiyoshi’s legs. He just watched him closely, not moving, not touching until Kuroko leaned his head against his chest. Then his arms came up around him.

 

“Everything is going to be fine,” he said, fingers combing through Kuroko’s hair.

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“We’ve managed to get this far fighting on our own. Now we have allies. I’d say whatever we’re aiming for, we stand a good chance of getting it.”

 

Causing war would be a heavy price to pay, even for this. Central Command would not submit peacefully. Kuroko knew they were in the right, he knew what he was fighting for was the right thing. He just wished the fight didn’t have to mean bloodshed, and that’s where he could feel them heading.

 

“I thought you’d be more pleased than this.”

 

“I just don’t want to be the cause of a war.”

 

“Well, we’re still climbing the mountain, Kuroko. There’s no telling what’s at the top, even if it is our goal, so we may as well enjoy the view as we go along.”

 

“Enough of your analogies,” Kuroko mumbled, surreptitiously breathing in his scent, faintly electric and sweet.

 

“What would you prefer?” he asked, quiet, fingers still carding through his hair. Kuroko shook his head, dislodging his hand.

 

“The truth.”

 

“About?”

 

“Everything.”

 

Kiyoshi laughed a little but the sound was dull. He dropped a kiss to the top of Kuroko’s head and pulled away—just in time, for Furihata popped back into the kitchen with a bright smile, asking if Kuroko or Kiyoshi wanted to help him re-calibrate the engines.

 

“Go back to your friends.” Kiyoshi squeezed his shoulder in passing. <We can talk later. I promise.>

 

Kuroko just didn’t know how many moments of ‘later’ they would have left.

 

No one mentioned his absence when he came back, immediately drawing him back into the conversation, arguing about who had been the one to set the dormitory on fire back at training school.

 

He and Momoi shared a conspiratorial look as Kagami pointed the blame on Aomine. He was hard-pressed not to start laughing at her expression ‘don’t you dare’, even with everything else weighing on his mind.

 

It was easy, being with them. He had missed them more than he thought.

 

With Midorima’s begrudging clearance to leave the Med Bay, Akashi showed him a room outfitted with a connected Auxiliary room. He politely asked Kiyoshi if he wanted a room of his own, which Kiyoshi declined, much to Kuroko’s relief—and embarrassment, when Kiyoshi went on to say that he preferred to stick close to Kuroko.

 

If Akashi thought there was anything off about that, he didn’t mention it, but his red eyes were sharp on Kuroko the whole time.

 

Kiyoshi didn’t bother with going to the separate connected room, instead dropping onto the bed in the main room with a sigh. He rubbed idly at his knees, looking around their new surroundings.

 

“Another day, another room,” he said, mostly to himself, Kuroko thought.

 

“Does it bother you?”

 

He turned a smile on Kuroko immediately. “Of course not. I’m here with you, after all.”

 

Kuroko cleared his throat. “I meant your leg.”

 

There was a sly edge to his smile, a twinkle in his dark eyes before Kiyoshi looked back around the room—brief enough that Kuroko nearly missed it. “My leg’s fine. It’s your head we should be worried about. You seem to have a penchant for smashing it into things.”

 

“Midorima already cleared me,” Kuroko said, aggrieved. He walked past Kiyoshi only to have him snag his wrist in a loose grip, tugging him gently to a stop.

 

“I know,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

 

“Could have fooled me,” Kuroko replied archly, raising his eyebrows. He could recognize when he was being played with. Kiyoshi tipped his head, almost courteous, wide lips twitching at the corners like he was forcing words back.

 

“I just worry. You’re very…breakable.”

 

“So are you. So are we all.”

 

“They can put me back together.” He patted his prosthetic with his free hand for emphasis. “I won’t apologize for my concern.”

 

Kiyoshi tugged again, a little firmer, drawing Kuroko closer. He let himself be pulled, curious about Kiyoshi’s intentions.

 

“They can put me back together too,” Kuroko said, when Kiyoshi did nothing but look at him with a tiny smile, still holding on. The smile faded, morphing into something serious and a little pained. But Kuroko barreled onward. “One day, I’ll be the same thing you are.”

 

“You’re already considered dead,” Kiyoshi said, sharp. “If you stay hidden, you’ll never have to turn.”

 

“If I stay hidden, the world will never change. We have a story to tell, Kiyoshi.” He raised his free hand, brushing the hair from Kiyoshi’s forehead, leaving his fingers buried in the soft strands. His brown eyes, soft, soft, stared up at him. Imploring. “I have always known that one day I would be an Auxiliary. All humans share the same fate.”

 

It didn’t make the thought any less disturbing. Unlike Kiyoshi, Kuroko would be brought back without his personality intact, with his memories. It would only be his body that returned. It wouldn’t be Kuroko at all.

 

“You friends can tell this story just as easily as you,” Kiyoshi said, more quiet this time.

 

“I won’t let you stop me.”

 

“I wonder if I could.”

 

“You might try?”

 

“If I think it will keep you safe.”

 

“Maybe I don’t want to be safe. Maybe I’m tired of being safe.”

 

Kiyoshi burst out in laughter and Kuroko gritted his teeth in irritation, even as he allowed the other man’s head to lean forward against his chest.

 

“You’re a fierce little thing, Kuroko Tetsuya. I pity anyone who tries to stand in your way.”

 

“You may get bitten if you try,” Kuroko warned him, a smile tugging on his lips. He let it stay there, since Kiyoshi wasn’t looking to see, but he suspected it was in his voice. He liked the sound of his name on Kiyoshi's tongue.

 

“Yes,” Kiyoshi said, voice muffled in his shirt. “I suspect I just might.”

 

 

 

 

 

Hours later, Kuroko could not find rest, even with Kiyoshi just beside him. They had started out on separate sides of the bed but Kuroko had gravitated to him, almost out of habit, mostly out of the desire to seek warmth and comfort.

 

Kiyoshi hadn’t said a word as he opened his body to fit beside his.

 

 Kuroko stared at their interlaced fingers he could barely see in the darkness.

 

“We could have died.”

 

He didn’t know why he said it but the words came with a sense of relief. An acknowledgement to the death they had narrowly escaped once more.

 

How much more were they supposed to take? How much could one person take before they simply shattered beneath the weight?

 

Kiyoshi’s fingers flexed, tightening on his.

 

“We could have, yes. Any number of times.”

 

“And you trusted me enough to risk that.”

 

“In a way.”

 

Kuroko steadied his temper by focusing on the steady beat of Kiyoshi’s heart.

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“I cared for you too much to let you risk it alone.”

 

It should have been flattering, that the strength of his feelings outweighed his sense of self-preservation, but he didn’t seem to have a great sense of that to start with. Neither did he, if he was being honest with himself.

 

_“It’s not meant to be taken so literally,” Ogiwara said sourly, brushing the debris off him. “It’s a guideline. Quit making so many sacrificial moves and you’ll never graduate.”_

 

“The sacrifice of one can serve the needs of the greater good,” Kuroko murmured to himself.

 

“You shouldn’t take it so literally.”

 

The echo of Ogiwara’s words stung.

 

“Like you don’t?”

 

“Nobody’s perfect.”

 

“What you said, when we found Hanamiya. That you had come back to protect.” Kuroko rolled over in the circle of his arms, trying to pick out his expression in the dark. “What did you mean by that? You had no one, so what did you intend to protect?”

 

“You.”

 

“But—”

 

 “Our directives are uploaded to our ports before we’re woken up. I knew you were mine before I was brought back. I knew that the new Admiral wanted me to kill for him. And I swore to myself that I would find a way to disobey those directives. I swore that I wouldn’t let you come to any harm.”

 

Kuroko swallowed hard. “You didn’t even know me.”

 

Kiyoshi’s hand curved gently over his cheek. “I wanted to.”

 

Kuroko closed his eyes and listened to their heartbeats. There was nothing he could possibly say to that, nothing he could ever do that would mean as much as what Kiyoshi had told him.

 

“It’s not so strange, Kuroko. As an officer of the Fleet, you work and fight every day to protect the safety of millions of strangers.”

 

“That’s different.”

 

“Not all that different, I think.”

 

There was no point to arguing it, not with him.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Kiyoshi brought his face closer, eyes flickering briefly with light.

 

“For?”

 

For deciding he was worth protecting. For being honest, here in the dark. Kuroko just shook his head, their foreheads brushing together.

 

“Just, thank you. That’s all.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 If Akashi wasn’t going to divulge his plan, Kuroko was going to make a plan of his own.

 

They left the ships connected, not out of necessity, but it was less wasteful than shuttling constantly between like Kuroko swore he would be doing if they flew as separate ships. He felt better, anyway, having the _Vorpal_ together as one than as broken off pieces. They were stronger, together.

 

The name was growing on him.

 

“Takao,” he said in greeting and the other man finally looked up from his screen with a tired smile.

 

“I was wondering when you might be paying me a visit. Where’s your shadow, shadow man?” he laughed at his own joke, leaving Kuroko to wonder why he was expecting him. “Well, I guess it’s a conversation best had without him at first anyway.”

 

“What conversation is that?” Kuroko asked carefully.

 

“Why, you’re going to ask me if I can find the rest of the Uncrowned Kings, of course!”

 

“How did—”

 

“Shin-chan may have let it slip that Kiyoshi was part of them, so naturally I had to find out more. Research is our thing, after all.”

 

It had been clumsy of Kuroko to think that Midorima would withhold anything from Takao. Or perhaps, clumsier to think that Takao would not figure things out on his own. Kuroko took a seat across from him, perching at the edge of the uncomfortable stool.

 

“All Midorima could tell me was that they were a group of government mandated assassins,” Kuroko said, trying not to think too hard about how he knew they had been murdered and consequently enslaved by their killers to do their dirty work. He tried not to think about Kiyoshi, alive. Truly alive. He refused to believe that Kiyoshi, _his_ Kiyoshi, was a ghost. “Are you telling me that you know more than that?”

 

Takao shook his head.

 

“I’ve got names, Kuroko, and not much more. There’s little information to be found, even with me snooping around.”

 

Kuroko couldn’t help the pang of disappointment in his chest. “So we can’t find them after all.”

 

“I never said that. Information about the past is easy to erase, which is what I’m assuming happened. Information in the here and now, however, that’s a whole different beast. I can’t give any guarantees, but I’ve been tracking some promising leads on their locations.” Takao looked back down at his screen, the blue light turning his face more shadowed, older. “But I’ll be honest, Kuroko, I’m not sure what good it will do unless they’re anything like your Kiyoshi.”

 

“We have a common enemy.”

 

“They have a century old grudge against humankind too. Let’s not forget that Hanamiya tried to murder everyone on your old ship.”

 

He had been after Kiyoshi, more than anyone else, Kuroko thought. He kept that to himself.

 

“Their names?”

 

Takao didn’t even have to look at his dataplate to recite the names. “First and foremost, their leader, Kiyoshi Teppei. You know Hanamiya. Hayama Kotaro, Mibuchi Reo, and Nebuya Eikichi. I’ve got pictures I can forward to you.”

 

Kuroko repeated them in his head to remember for later. He would have to ask Kiyoshi about them.

 

He hoped, with a pang of dread, that none of them were anything like Hanamiya.

 

“How are things going with Kiyoshi, by the way?”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

Takao shrugged, a sly grin pulling up his lips. He looked like his old self again. “Well, just the two of you seem awfully cozy.”

 

Kuroko should have denied it. He should have said something dismissive, waved it away as a figment of both their imaginations.

 

He couldn’t.

 

“Don’t look so grim, Kuroko. The guy’s practically human, and it’s not like relationships between Auxiliaries and humans are completely unheard of. It’s an old taboo. We’re in a new era.”

 

Not as new as Takao seemed to think. Nor did Takao have a hope to understand the depth of Kuroko’s feelings towards Kiyoshi. The other man sighed and scratched at his nose.

 

“We collaborate well,” Kuroko finally said, knowing he had to say something, and Takao laughed.

 

“That’s cold, Kuroko!”

 

“We’re a team.”

 

“Fair enough.” He keyed a few things in on his dataplate, waving Kuroko off. “If I find anything you’ll be the first to know. Maybe try asking your Kiyoshi about them, see if you can’t unearth some more information.”

 

“I’ll see what I can do.” Kuroko stood. “Thank you, Takao.”

 

With a bright comment to not mention it and to go relax, “since you’re a dead man and all,” Takao returned to his work and Kuroko left the deck. He paused in the observation space, staring out at the far away stars.

 

_Your Kiyoshi._

 

He wasn’t wrong but Kuroko still marveled at the words. At the implications.

 

“Ah, it’s Kuro-chin,” a voice from below said. Kuroko looked down through the slats of the catwalk to see Murasakibara sprawled out on the ramp just below him like an overlarge cat.

 

“What are you doing down there?”

 

“Waiting for Mido-chin to come back.”

 

After a moment of hesitation, Kuroko took the stairs down and sat down beside him.

 

“Himuro’s not with you?”

 

“Working,” he mumbled, reaching into his pockets and pulling out a sweet that he popped into his mouth without bothering to offer any to Kuroko.

 

“Shouldn’t you be helping?”

 

He fixed Kuroko with a baleful eye, blowing some of the hair out of his face. “He’s fine without me helping. Besides, Mido-chin wanted me to help him fix some codes, that’s more interesting than flying a ship.”

 

He could have made captain status long ago if he weren’t so unmotivated. It was easy to forget just how intelligent and naturally talented he was because of his childish attitude. It hadn’t always been easy for Kuroko to push aside his irritation at him.

 

“You look smaller than I remember,” he said bluntly.

 

“You’re just bigger, that’s all.”

 

“Ah,” he mumbled. Murasakibara pulled out another sweet, this time offering it to him first. Kuroko took it even though he didn’t care for them, recognizing a peace offering when he saw one.

 

“I should go,” Kuroko said, tossing the sweet from hand to hand, just as Murasakibara spoke again.

 

“You know, you really upset Mido-chin by staying behind like that.”

 

Kuroko sucked in a breath. “I had to.”

 

“Liar. It was annoying. He kept calling me to help when I was trying to sleep.” He poked Kuroko in the side lazily. “Don’t do that again. Your cadets kept crying about it, that was annoying too.”

 

“I’ll endeavor to be less annoying in the future,” Kuroko muttered, pushing his hand away. The faintest of smiles crossed Murasakibara’s face.

 

“Good,” he said, sounding unreasonably pleased. The sound of footsteps drew their gazes upward to find Midorima peering down at them.

 

“Murasakibara, I said to meet me at the lab,” he said.

 

He flapped one large hand in the air in a vague gesture. “I’m close enough.”

 

“Well, come on then. We have work to do. Kuroko, you should be resting.”

 

“My head’s fine, Midorima.”

 

He huffed out a breath, ignoring him in favor of cajoling Murasakibara up and away to the lab, leaving Kuroko alone on the observation deck once more. He popped the sweet into his mouth, grimacing at the saccharine, fruity flavor. 

 

Everything was deceptively peaceful. He had never been in a war, but he imagined this must be the calm before the storm. There was little to do but to wait and see what would happen. Having to depend on the Admiral for their next move was disconcerting, like he was still in control of the situation despite having had been thwarted in his plan to recapture Hanamiya. And since Hanamiya did not divulge the information to them, they had only the barest of leverage to work with.

 

Hopefully they could all live up to their miraculous names.

 

He spent the day wandering from ship to ship, helping out here and there. More often than not, his teammates insisted that he just sit back and relax, even though he itched to be doing something. Anything was better than having too much time to sit and think. Kuroko spent a good chunk of time with Kagami and Aomine, their familiar, jovial bickering a good distraction, especially when Kiyoshi was notably absent from his side.

 

_Where’s your shadow, shadow?_

 

If Kuroko reached out, he was there, but he couldn’t place on what ship or what he was doing. Perhaps he was with the cadets. But he wasn’t present at dinner either, and when Kuroko asked he simply said that he was ‘otherwise occupied’.

 

“Lieutenant!” Kawahara called out, trotting to catch up to him, Fukuda and Furihata at his heels. Kuroko paused, waiting for them. “Lieutenant, are you busy?”

 

“It’s just Kuroko now,” he reminded him. All three of them shifted, clearly uncomfortable.

 

“Sir, if you have time…”

 

“I have time.” He thought longingly of his bed but followed after them anyway.

 

The simulation room was small, more of an afterthought of space. It took on the shape of a basketball court the moment they stepped inside.

 

“We’ve been practicing,” Furihata said, his serious mood lifting at once when he scooped up a basketball. He dribbled, once, twice—a comfortable movement, that matched up with his words. “They showed us a few things.”

 

“They?”

 

“Mostly Akashi and Midorima. Aomine tried but,” Kawahara hesitated, scratching his nose with a sheepish smile, “he’s too fast for us to keep up.”

 

“He barely has the patience to practice with me,” Kuroko assured them. What he wouldn’t give to have them all back on the court with him. His team. Basketball made him feel truly alive. “What did you want to show me?”

 

“We’ve been running those drills you showed us before.”

 

“Go ahead.”

 

Kuroko stood back and watched them run through drill after drill. Where once their steps faltered or they hesitated to pass, they moved fluidly as a unit, hitting their marks every single time.

 

“Akashi showed us one other thing,” Furihata said after they had exhausted their repertoire. He nodded to the others and the room flickered, taking a new shape.

 

A weapons and ballistics training field.

 

Behind his back, Kuroko clasped his hands tighter. The cadets looked nervous, as if waiting for his approval.

 

Just Kuroko, he had told them. and that was how he felt. But to them he would always be their Lieutenant, their leader.

 

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

 

“Go ahead,” he repeated, hoarse.

 

It was easy to see Akashi’s influence, Midorima’s handiwork, in the way they systematically decimated all the targets across the field, the fluidity of their movements echoing the innocent drills they had just completed.

 

That was the whole point of basketball, he reminded himself sternly, vision going blurry. Kuroko dashed the tears aside impatiently. He just wished they could play for the sake of playing. Not for this.

 

When they turned their bright and expectant gazes on him, Kuroko was ready with a smile and the assurance that they had done well.

 

Kuroko hoped they would never have to put these skills to real use.

 

He stayed behind after the cadets left and the room settled back into the court.

 

He shot basket after basket from the free throw line, half of them bouncing uselessly off the rim or backboard, the others sliding with a satisfying swish through the net. It didn’t clear his mind like it usually did, but the motion was comforting. Safe territory.

 

“Your arc is wrong.”

 

“Isn’t it just that his form is still weird looking?”

 

Kuroko glanced back over his shoulder to see Midorima and Takao lingering in the doorway.

 

“My arc is fine,” he informed them, shooting the next ball too quickly and sending it flying wild off the rim. Kuroko gritted his teeth and took better aim with the next. It slid almost noiselessly through the net.

 

“See, it’s just his form.”

 

“If he would use a higher arc, his rate of success—”

 

“ _He,_ ” Kuroko said, turning and throwing the next ball into Midorima’s hands. He caught it easily, a small line between his brows, “didn’t ask for feedback. I’m not one of the cadets. I know how to play.”

 

“We are well aware of that,” Midorima replied stiffly. The way he spun the basketball between his fingers was anything but stiff. He took a few steps forwards and shot—it arced high, higher, higher, his form textbook perfect and even from that great distance, the ball swished through the net. Takao laughed.

 

“Looks like you’ve still got the moves, champ!” he said teasingly. Midorima made a vague noise, touching the goggles around his neck. “You know, we should get all of you together again, play some matches. It would do you all some good.”

 

“We don’t have time for such frivolities.” There was something like regret, heavy in his voice.

 

“It’s _basketball_ , Shin-chan. Basketball. Pretty sure the world won’t end if you decide to play one game.”

 

 But it was never just one game when it was all of them together. _One more time._ Someone would inevitably demand it, _one more time_ , and they would all agree, because who would choose anything else?

 

“He’s right.” Kuroko headed to the door, heart heavy in his chest. He missed Kiyoshi, he missed the days when he did not have to carry all these worries with him. He missed Nigou. He missed the _Tenebris._ “We should be focusing on finding the Uncrowned Kings.”

 

“Not you too, Kuroko!”

 

Kuroko flashed him a weary, unconvincing smile as he passed by them, but didn’t stop until he reached his room.

 

“Is everything okay, Kuroko?” Kiyoshi asked.

 

“I’m fine,” was all he could reply, remembering the gunfire the cadets had unleashed, remembering the new look in Furihata’s eyes. Determination and fear. Pride. “Everything is fine.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Change came quickly.

 

Kuroko was walking past the flight deck when he noticed all the Miracles gathered inside around the main screen. He paused, wondering what they could possibly be up to, but couldn’t catch any of the words they were saying.

 

With a sigh, he entered the room, taking care to knock his foot casually against the door to draw their attention.

 

“Kuroko!” Kise hopped to his feet with a grin, ushering him over to take his seat. “C’mon, listen to this.”

 

“Listen to what?” he asked cautiously, eyeing the restless tension flowing between all his friends. Kiyoshi took up a position just behind his shoulder, arms crossed, and on the balls of his feet.

 

“Takao hacked into a news broadcast station—” 

 

“What, like it’s hard?” Murasakibara muttered.

 

“—and you’ll never guess who’s making the big headlines!”

 

Before Kuroko could question anyone, the broadcast was thrown on-screen; the images were grainy, not perfectly crisp and clear like he was used to but it was clear enough to see who it was.

 

_“—Captain Aida Riko is at the forefront of the Fleet officers who are displeased with Central Command’s continued silence on the attack of last week, where the brutal shots of a Command vessel injured dozens of Special Operatives and killed their newest Operative, Kuroko Tetsuya. Formerly of the Tenebris, Operative Kuroko—”_

 

Kuroko tuned out the brief history they had compiled on him as his own image flashed on the screen, the solemn headshot from the start of his career in the Fleet. He looked barely old enough to be an officer. Kuroko hadn’t thought the years had changed him so much on the outside. He felt rather than saw Kiyoshi shift closer.

 

It was Nijimura’s face that appeared next, speaking to a journalist.

 

_‘“Operative Kuroko was one of our most promising officers. I had high hopes for his future. The silence on Command’s part is deeply concerning to me, and his sponsor, General Imayoshi.”’_

 

_“General Imayoshi Shouichi, a long-time favorite of the public, has always been at odds with the bureaucracy of Central Command one can’t help but to wonder if this recent attack and their strained relationship bear any connection.”_  The reporter smiled, but there was an edge of fear in her eyes. This was the kind of reporting that lost jobs, or worse.  _“Central Command still remains unavailable for comment.”_

 

The screen went dark.

 

“The people are getting restless. They know something is up.” Akashi’s smile was frightening in its intensity. “You’ve become a hero, Kuroko.”

 

“I didn’t do anything.”

 

“You died,” Aomine pointed out.

 

“And some people are starting to think maybe you died for them,” Momoi added on.

 

All he had wanted was to save himself and Kiyoshi. His new desire to free the Auxiliaries being forced to exist as AI machines was just that—new. He had been being selfish.

 

A wave of guilt flood through him as the others buzzed with conversation, replaying the words in his mind.

 

Nijimura was lying for him. Who knew what Imayoshi had knowledge of. It felt, even more than before, that war was coming.

 

It was coming, whether they were ready or not.

 

“Did you ask him to lie for me, Akashi?” Kuroko asked.

 

“I asked him to go with his conscience.” Akashi tilted his head slightly, gaze distant. “I suspected he might, given the rumors of his close relationship with Imayoshi. This is perhaps the ideal outcome of that.”

 

Nothing about this felt ideal. Riko could be in serious trouble for taking a stand against Command. Losing her captaincy would be the least of it. Nijimura and Imayoshi must have been planning for something like this, to sound so prepared in the broadcast.

 

Akashi was right. The Admiral would have to make his move soon.

 

 “I will not let my captain fight alone,” Kuroko said, feeling the expectant gazes upon him.

 

“Nijimura can handle—”

 

 “Idiot, he’s talking about Riko,” Kagami said.

 

 “I don’t think any of us ever thought we’d be sitting out of the fight. Right, Akashi?” Momoi asked quickly before the two could argue.

 

Akashi drew his glare away from Kagami. “It remains an option.”

 

“What?” Kise leaped to his feet, mouth dropping open. “You can’t be serious, Akashi! We have to fight with them! How can you even say—”

 

“I said it was an option,” he said sharply, speaking over Kise’s outrage. “Not that it was what I would recommend. No, I don’t think we can afford to stay out, but neither do I think we should jump in blindly. With Kuroko effectively dead, we need to be careful.”

 

“They’ll be suspicious if their martyr suddenly rises from the dead,” Midorima supplied, “and the movement will lose much of its current momentum.”

 

“So what, we just sit here waiting until you say so?” Kagami asked, obviously frustrated. Kuroko wrestled down his guilt and stood.

 

“We fight from the shadows,” he said. A declaration.

 

The others looked between him and Akashi, waiting. He finally inclined his head after several moments of tense silence. They were all Miracles but Akashi had always been their leader, had always called the shots. But they were here because of Kuroko, in the end.

 

“If everyone agrees to it,” Akashi said, more of an addition than his own thought. “I can devise a way for us to fight alongside the Fleet. It will mean keeping you out of it for some time, Kuroko, but I have confidence that we can pull this off.”

 

“And the Admiral?” Aomine asked. “What about that bastard?”

 

“Until he makes his move with Command, there’s little we can do but make plans and prepare for now.”

 

“Takao believes he can track down the Uncrowned Kings,” Midorima said after several moments had passed. The others shifted in their seats.

 

“They could make powerful allies,” Akashi mused.

 

“Or powerful enemies,” Momoi said.

 

“Has Kiyoshi told you anything about them? They’re his old team, after all,” Kagami asked Kuroko. Kuroko shook his head slowly, taking his seat again.

 

“Not a word.” Not even their names. Hayama, Mibuchi, Nebuya. “But he would have mentioned it if they were anything like Hanamiya.” At least, he thought he might have. There was no real telling about Kiyoshi’s motivations and whims.

 

“Tell Takao he may continue his search.”

 

“Oh? I’m glad to hear that.”

 

They all turned to find Takao grinning in the doorway. He leaned one shoulder against the frame, waving the dataplate in his other hand at them.

 

“You’re always having these secret meetings without me! If you’re not careful, I’ll get jealous.”

 

“Takao,” Midorima said, not quite a warning.

 

“Yes, yes. Well, good news, folks! I found somebody—”

 

The whole ship shuddered and alarms suddenly flashed red and blaring. Another impact came quickly after the first.

 

“Or maybe not so good news,” he added with a laugh. “I, uh. May have accidentally let our location slip to one of the Kings I was tracking—”

 

“Takao, you idiot—”

 

“There’s no time for that!” Aomine snapped. “Everyone to your stations! We’re going to blow this asshole out of the sky!”

 

“Calm down,” Akashi said over him, barely needing to raise his voice. “Takao, good work. I assume you’ll have no trouble putting a connection through so we may speak with this _King._ ”

 

He was using his diplomat’s voice.

 

 “Sure thing, Captain. Just don’t expect a friendly welcome—”

 

“What orders?” Kiyoshi came into the door just as Takao ran for the communications station on the bridge. His eyes were bright, bright blue with the lights within him and his expression was blank. Kuroko cursed inwardly, going to him at once. He grabbed on tight to his arms, maybe too tight.

 

“Kiyoshi, it’s fine. Everything’s going to be fine. There are no orders.”

 

Kiyoshi didn’t seem to hear him.

 

“What orders?”

 

“Didn’t you hear him, moron?” Kagami snapped out. He had jumped to the secondary gunner position as soon as Aomine had yelled, but turned his head to glare.

 

“Kagami, don’t—”

 

“What orders, Admiral?”

 

Everyone was silent, the alarms still going off wildly in the background. Kuroko swallowed hard, his hands shaking so bad he was surprised he didn’t shake Kiyoshi with the force of it.

 

“It’s me,” he whispered. “It’s Kuroko.”

 

<Please wake up. Please.>

 

“These orders do not compute. Please repeat, Admiral.”

 

“Oh-ho? Sounds like you’ve flipped his switch.”

 

“Got the line,” Takao said unnecessarily as the strange voice streamed in over the overhead speakers. The screen remained blank, nor was there any sign of a ship outside the polycarb windows. A cloaking device of some sort, Kuroko had to assume, but he was more concerned with getting Kiyoshi back to reality than anything else.

 

The whole damn ship could burn if he could just get Kiyoshi back.

 

“Kiyoshi Teppei! Aren’t you even going to tell me hello? Pretty rude of you, considering you’ve had your humans tracking me down with such _crude_ methods.”

 

The lights in his eyes flickered and went dim. Kiyoshi shook his head in confusion.

 

“Kuro…ko?”

 

Kuroko could have cried.

 

“Welcome back.”

 

Kiyoshi frowned at him in confusion, before looking around the bridge. “What’s going on? Are we under attack?”

 

“One of your old _friends_ found us,” Akashi said icily. “So if you wouldn’t mind telling him to stop opening fire upon us, that would be greatly appreciated.”

 

“Ah.” Kiyoshi relaxed. “Well, they may not listen to me, depending on who it is.”

 

“I am _right here,_ ” the voice said, exasperated and Kiyoshi jolted in surprise. “Honestly, people these days.”

 

“Reo? Is that you?”

 

Mibuchi Reo. Kuroko recalled the picture being a person with long black hair, with gentle grey eyes. Hardly someone who looked like an assassin. Then again, Kiyoshi rarely ever looked the part either.

 

“Ah, Teppei. I see you’ve woken up. I hear you got poor Makoto blown to bits.”

 

“An unavoidable loss.”

 

“Well,” they sighed. “He always was a troublesome child. But Teppei, I wonder why you would hunt me down like this? You know doing so threatens to give away both our positions to Central Command, and I’m certain that’s something you’d like to avoid.”

 

“I’d be happy to tell you all about it, Reo,” he said calmly, “if you’ll let me aboard.”

 

There was a brief pause.

 

“I think not. I don’t have a death wish like Makoto, and no offense, Teppei, only a person wanting to die would let you anywhere near them.”

 

“We come in peace,” Akaashi finally addressed Reo. “If you’re aware of Hanamiya’s death, then you must know that we have defected from the Fleet in order to fight against the Admiral.”

 

“And I believe that of _you_ , dear boy, but I’m afraid this is between me and Teppei.”

 

Akashi audibly ground his teeth but shot Kiyoshi a glance as if to say _fix this._

 

“I’m not within the Admiral’s control,” Kiyoshi said.

 

Reo just laughed and laughed, an elegant sound that would have been pleasant to hear had not the situation been so dire.

 

“If you believe that, Teppei, you are a bigger fool than you act.”

 

Kiyoshi’s muscles were tense beneath Kuroko’s hands. He realized he was still holding on and belatedly released him. The familiarity between him and Reo was different than what was between him and Hanamiya. Softer, more polite. But more honest and therefore more brutal.

 

“It’s true. I serve a new master now.”

 

“So is the word. One Kuroko Tetsuya, yes? Sorry, but that still does not answer my question.”

 

“And I still cannot answer unless you let me board your ship.”

 

Reo sighed. “You play dirty, Teppei. Very well. You and your human, Kuroko, may come aboard.”

 

“No, we’re all coming,” Kagami blurted out.

 

“I’m afraid those are my terms.” They laughed again, once, a thinly veiled threat. “Break them and I’m afraid I will be forced to break _you._ And I do so detest bloodshed so early in the day.”

 

“We agree to the terms,” Kuroko said hurriedly before any of the others could speak up. He could feel Akashi’s eyes on him but he ignored him for now. Regardless of whether Akashi agreed, he held his peace. “Give us the coordinates and we can shuttle over.”

 

“No need.” The space they were staring out at shimmered and a small ship came into view. “We’re all friends here, are we not?”

 

Silence fell again as the connection broke off.

 

“Will someone shut off those fucking alarms,” Aomine finally muttered. Takao jabbed at a few keys and the sound quit blaring, but the red lights remained. They had taken some damage, even with the shields. Reo’s ship was strong.

 

 “You’d best go prepare a shuttle, Kuroko,” Akashi said.

 

“You can’t seriously think this is a good idea, Akashi!” Kise protested, stepping between him and Kuroko. “You can’t just send him off all on his own when he’s finally made it back to us—”

 

“Do you think him incompetent?” Akashi asked sharply. Kise’s words dried up and his arms lowered.

 

“Of course not.” His tone was fierce.

 

“Then you do him a disservice, speaking like that.”

 

Kise turned, glancing back at Kuroko with a trouble expression. “Someone else should go with them at least.”

 

“Kiyoshi and I can handle ourselves,” Kuroko said before anyone else could speak, whether they meant to go against or for him. It wasn’t their decision and it wasn’t the terms this Mibuchi Reo had agreed to.

 

 Kiyoshi didn’t touch him, but he could feel the intent through the mental connection.

 

<I’m sorry if I scared you.>

 

<It’s fine.>

 

It wasn’t fine. It had been terrifying, and everyone had been there to witness it. Admiral, not Lieutenant. Not that Kuroko could rightfully claim that title anymore, but it would have been better than hearing _Admiral._

 

“We’ll be going then,” Kuroko said, turning to go.

 

“Kuroko,” Akashi said, stopping him in his tracks. When Kuroko looked back, they were all watching him intently. He could feel their worry, their desire to come with him obvious. “Come back. Even if it means leaving Reo behind.”

 

“Don’t worry.” He smiled even though Kagami was shaking with anger and Midorima had a white-knuckled grip on his goggles. Murasakibara was tying back his hair, a sure sign of danger. “We’ll be back soon.”

 

“What happened to not making promises you don’t think you can keep?” Kiyoshi asked once they were on the shuttle. Kuroko blinked up at him.

 

“What happened to you protecting me?”

 

“You trust me to do that? Even now?” his smile was soft and sweet as the candies he favored.

 

“Of course.”

 

If he didn’t believe in Kiyoshi, he would lose hope.

 

And that, he could not do.

 

“This Reo. What are they like?”

 

“You’ll see soon enough. They’re a kind person.”

 

“You were friends.”

 

“Still are. I hope so, anyway,” he added with a small laugh as they entered the docking sequence. Kiyoshi offered him a hand up. “Shall we?”

 

Kuroko took his hand, but rather than let Kiyoshi pull him up, Kuroko pulled him down, kissing him. Kiyoshi’s mouth opened to him at once, deepening what Kuroko had intended to be a brief touch.

 

“For good luck?” Kiyoshi murmured, lips brushing against his.

 

“Something like that.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The ship was empty, abandoned like Hanamiya’s had been. It didn’t have the same feel though, nor the stench of death. It felt—old. And empty, like no one had ever lived there at all.

 

They found Reo at the heart of the ship, alone and tangled amidst cords, his chest nothing more than a giant open wound to the air. He looked exhausted, black shadows surrounding his sunken eyes. The picture Kuroko had seen had shown someone quite beautiful; the person before him was nothing but a shadow.

 

“Teppei,” they said with a faint smile. Their eyes flicked to him. “And you must be the mysterious Kuroko that has so captured our Teppei’s heart! Pleased to make your acquaintance. I’d shake your hand, but,” their fingers twitched within their strangling bonds, “you’ve caught me in something of a bind.”

 

“Reo.” Kiyoshi dropped to his knees beside them. “It’s good to see you.”

 

“I appreciate the sentiment, Teppei. But I’d rather we skip the pleasantries for once. If you’ve defected from the Fleet, why are you tracking me down?”

 

“We’re going to fight. You’d make a powerful ally, Reo.”

 

They hummed low. “You were our leader, once,” Reo said, their smile vanishing. “Think you still measure up?”

 

Kiyoshi bowed his head. “I’m not here to force your hand, Reo.”

 

They laughed. “That I don’t believe for a second. Try again, Teppei. Tell me something I can believe.” Kiyoshi seemed to take that comment in stride, visibly taking a moment just to breathe. Kuroko’s lungs felt tight as he waited.

 

“This new Admiral, he’s bad news. He reminds me of his predecessor. I need your help to take him out of the picture.”

 

“Like old times.”

 

“Better,” Kiyoshi looked up, offering a smile. “We’re the ones calling the shots this time around.”

 

A slow, answering smile broke across Reo’s face. Kuroko could see some of the one-time beauty they must have had light up in their faded features and shivered. “That sounds more like the Teppei I know.”

 

“It’s your choice. I can’t make you fight this fight.”

 

“You can if I want out of here.”

 

“You think so little of me?” 

 

“I think I’ve known you too long to fall for your tricks.”

 

Kiyoshi began pulling cords and Kuroko carefully start pressing the skin-growth patches in the spaces left behind. Midorima could save them, stop them from dying the same death that Hanamiya had suffered.

 

“I don’t suppose there’s a good way to say this, but,” they hissed as Kiyoshi pulled out one of the larger cords, fluids oozing from the hole left behind and lights flickering weakly. “Eikichi is dead.”

 

“Nebuya? That’s hard to believe.”

 

“Well, he took a bad turn after you were put away.”

 

Kuroko felt out of place here. It was an uncomfortable feeling, being a third wheel for two old friends. Their familiarity bothered him somehow.

 

“And you?”

 

“I tried to escape. Kotaro managed to get away, but—well. Nobody’s quick like him.”

 

“Do you know where he is?”

 

“Far and away, Teppei. Don’t drag him into this. He’s too young.”

 

“Not so young anymore.”

 

“No,” Reo agreed quietly. “But he’s my little brother. I won’t let you bring him into this fight. He’s earned his freedom from this mess.”

 

Kiyoshi sighed. “Fair enough. Ready to go?” He heaved Reo up into his arms, carrying them with a gentle touch. Kuroko followed them back to the shuttle, almost uncertain. He had expected Reo to take more convincing. He had attacked them, after all, even if they were just warning shots.

 

<Worried that I’ll turn on you, little shadow?>

 

Kuroko startled at the sweet voice that slid into his head. Reo’s eyes were closed where they lay supine in Kiyoshi’s arms.

 

<I don’t trust you if that’s what you mean.>

 

<A wise decision, that. A cautious one. I assure you, I don’t mean Teppei any harm.>

 

<And the rest of us?>

 

<That remains to be seen. No offense, little shadow, but I don’t trust humans.> Their eyes slid open to slits of grey. Where before they had been gentle and soft, Kuroko saw nothing but daggers. <I think you can understand why.>

 

Kuroko looked away, moving ahead of them into the shuttle and wordlessly plugging in the return coordinates.

 

Reo had been human once, whatever they thought of themself now. Kuroko hoped it would be enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alone in their room once more, Kuroko sat on the bed staring sightlessly at the walls. Kiyoshi was still with Reo in the Med Bay, helping Midorima undo the horrors that had been wrecked upon their body.

 

One more dubious ally in a fight no one was certain how they could fight in. Nor indeed a fight anyone was certain they could win.

 

But they had to try. That much he was certain of.

 

The door opened and shut. Kiyoshi stepped into his line of vision.

 

“They’re stable. Midorima says Reo will pull through just fine.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Something tells me you don’t like them.”

 

“I just don’t trust them.”

 

Kiyoshi nodded, stepping forward and holding Kuroko’s face between his hands.

 

“I understand. But do you trust me?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Then trust that I’ll keep you safe.”

 

“And the others.”

 

Kiyoshi smiled. Kuroko didn’t know if he could believe that smile. “Of course. As much as I can.”

 

Kuroko could ask for nothing more than that.

 

“May I kiss you?”

 

Kuroko blinked in surprise.

 

“You don’t have to ask. We’re alone.”

 

“Well,” he laughed a little, letting go of his face and sitting beside him. “I wasn’t certain if that was a one-time, we’re-about-to-die-anyway kind of deal.”

 

_I love you._

 

Kiyoshi smiled as if he had heard the words. Perhaps he had, or perhaps he could sense them.

 

Kiyoshi kissed him like he was the only thing that mattered in the whole world. Like he was the only thing that would ever matter.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [casually headcanons Reo as nonbinary they/them]
> 
> I don't know why there ended up being so much dialogue this time around, but there it is and here I am. Thanks for reading!


	10. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some explicit funtimes material at the end of the chapter, but once it starts there are no further plot points (except for Kiyoshi and Kuroko getting closer to each other) so if that's not your cup of tea, you can skip right over it! Happy holidays y'all.

“Mibuchi will live,” was Midorima’s assessment, hours later. His hands were steady but he looked otherwise exhausted as he stood at the foot of the Auxiliary’s bed. “Whether they make a full recovery is entirely up to them.”

“You’re so cold, Midorima,” Reo said with a weak smile, no longer looking quite so frail and ancient. “I told you just to call me Reo. You’ve had your hands inside my—”

“He’ll need monitoring. We can take shifts. But my work is done here,” Midorima said hurriedly, stepping away to go clean up. And change most likely, considering the blood and other fluids spattered over his clothes.

Kiyoshi sat at the edge of their bed, eyes roving over their newly healed body.

“How do you feel?”

“Like a new person.” They reached out and patted his hands with an uncoordinated but gentle touch. “Alive, almost. I could do with a shower.”

“Not until you’re cleared from bed rest,” Kiyoshi said apologetically, a smile on his face.

Kuroko turned to leave. He didn’t need to be here for this, and Kiyoshi would insist on taking the first shift of watching over Reo anyway. He should let them catch up with each other in private, like Kiyoshi had done for him with his friends. Had he felt this same selfish twinge of jealousy at seeing the familiarity between them? He had given no indication of it.

“Kuroko, do stay, won’t you?” Reo called out.

“I see no purpose to me staying,” he replied stiffly. “Kiyoshi can take the first watch.”

They laughed. “My, my, Teppei, your little human has some bite.”

“He does,” Kiyoshi said, proud.

Kuroko grimaced and kept walking. He encountered Midorima at a cleaning station near the exit of the bay.

“Do you think it wise to leave those two alone together?” Midorima asked evenly, meticulously scrubbing his hands clean. It was strange to see his long fingers unbandaged, even stranger to see the long thin scars that decorated his fingers.

“I don’t see why not. We can’t monitor them both constantly.” Nor did he think they needed constant monitoring. Not Kiyoshi, in any case. “Reo will really be fine?”

“Yes.”

Kuroko couldn’t help remembering Hanamiya’s long and painful spiral into death. He didn’t want to bear witness to that again—he didn’t want Kiyoshi to have to sit yet another vigil for his old team. Poisonous though he had been, Hanamiya’s death had still affected him.

“Thank you.”

Kuroko had the urge to hug Midorima but knew it would only irritate him. So he kept walking.

“Kuroko.”

“Yes?”

His brilliantly green eyes were tired when Kuroko looked back. His hands dripped water from where he held them poised over the sink.

“Welcome back.”

Kuroko blinked in surprise at the formality of the way he said those words, then a smile broke over his face.

“I’m back,” he confirmed.

The ship Reo had been attached to was long-gone now, nothing but rubble and dust floating through space. Strangely, though they had barely made it out in time, Kuroko had never felt the edge of danger like he had before.

Maybe he was just losing his touch.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reo seemed to take a liking to the Miracles. Akashi, especially, they seemed to find amusing.

“I won’t fight for you,” they told Kuroko from their bed, carefully doing the stretches Midorima had assigned to help build back the lost strength of their human parts. They were recovering quickly, quicker than any of them had thought possible.

Kuroko waited, sensing there was more to their statement, eyeing the long braid of hair that Reo had happily said was ‘Teppei’s fine handiwork’.

“But Teppei and I have been talking quite a bit these past few days. Central Command needs to be taken out of the picture, in my opinion, and that starts with the Admiral. I doubt I have much information that your friend Takao has not already found.” They tapped the side of their head, grey eyes full of irritation and regret. “Like Teppei, there are places I’m not allowed to go in here. I can fight with you, however.”

Kuroko understood the difference and was grateful.

That didn’t mean he was willing to trust Reo so easily.

“Still don’t trust me, hm?”

“No.”

“Yet you’ll trust Teppei.”

“Kiyoshi is different than you.”

“Because you’ve known him longer?”

_Because he’s mine_ , Kuroko was tempted to say, but he bit off the words in his mouth and swallowed them down, keeping them quiet and secret deep in his chest. Reo just smiled, going back to their stretches.

“Granted, he’s one of a kind. I hope one day you can afford me some of the same care you show him.”

“You don’t trust me either,” Kuroko pointed out, standing to leave as he heard footsteps entering the bay. “Nor any of us.”

“No, but I trust Teppei’s judgement above all else. Akashi reminds me of him, a bit. And we have a common enemy, after all. I think that’s enough to be going on, don’t you?”

Kuroko shrugged and left, brushing shoulders with Himuro on his way out.

He wandered between the ships for a while, stopping in all the empty spaces and just staring out at the world. Space was peaceful. The humanity that inhabited it, not so much. What was humanity? What was it to be human? Kuroko wasn’t sure he knew anymore, or if he had ever known.

He felt Kiyoshi approach before he heard him.

“They look at me differently now,” he said without preamble.

_What orders, Admiral?_

“They forgot what I was, I think.” He sat beside Kuroko with a sigh, their bodies touching at the hip and all the way down. The touch was a little electrifying, a little comforting. Certainly, it was nothing they hadn’t done before, but it felt different today.

“You make it easy to forget.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?” Kiyoshi asked with a laugh. There was no joy in his face when Kuroko looked over.

“Take it however you want.” He closed his eyes, just feeling the warmth from Kiyoshi’s body next to him. “Where do you go, when that happens?”

Kiyoshi didn’t answer for quite some time, his breathing unnaturally steady.

“A quiet place. Far away. I can still see what’s happening, still feel what’s—” he broke off, bowing his head. He reached over, almost cautious, linking their fingers together. “It’s like watching the world from behind an invisible curtain. And being powerless to control my own self.”

It sounded frightening. Possibly just as frightening as bearing witness to that horrible blank expression, the lack of reaction to Kuroko’s desperate pleading. Kuroko gently squeezed Kiyoshi’s hand, wishing there was something he could say or do that would make it better, knowing there was nothing.

He had already said before that he wished he could be human—for Kuroko’s sake—and they both knew that was an impossible wish.

Kiyoshi suddenly tugged his hand away and stood.

<Akashi’s coming.>

Kuroko sighed and nodded, accepting help to his feet. He leaned against the railing once he was standing, looking out at the stars with longing. Peace. War. Human. Auxiliary. He had never expected doing the right thing to be easy.

“Kuroko, there you are. And Kiyoshi. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What’s that?” Kuroko asked, turning to face him. Akaashi was bright today, full of a vivid energy that exuded from him like an aura. He didn’t smile, but it was a near thing; not even the shadows beneath his eyes could detract from it.

“There’s a group of starships from the Fleet not too far off from our current location. I think we should contact them.”

It seemed like a bold move, but Akashi would have his reasoning. Kuroko waited. Akashi nodded once, shortly, folding his arms.

“Among them are the  _Murus_ , the  _Lancea_ , and,” this time he did smile, too wide, pleased with himself, “the  _Tenebris.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kuroko stood with Kiyoshi, hidden in the hallway outside the bridge. Everyone else was within, silent, waiting for the connection to go through.

“Got it,” Takao murmured.

“Captain Aida Riko,” he heard Akashi say smoothly. “It’s a pleasure to finally speak with you. My name is Akashi Seijuro—”

“I know who you are,” she said, voice sharp. Even though hearing her voice was a relief, it put Kuroko on edge. “You’re my Lieutenant’s old training pal. One of the defectors.”

“Former lieutenant you mean, of course.”

A brief, tense silence fell.

“If you have something to say, say it. I won’t have my crew implicated in aiding those who have abandoned the Fleet.”

“I assure you, you’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

“Then say it.”

“The  _Vorpal_  fleet would like to join forces with you. We have the same enemy. The same ideals. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“The only enemy I have are enemies of the Fleet,” Riko said. “And so far I’m not convinced you aren’t one of those, Akashi.”

Kuroko imagined he could hear the vicious smile Akashi probably wore in his next words.

“You are many things, Captain, but you’re a poor liar. If you really think me the enemy, why not report me to Central Command?”

Another silence. Kuroko struggled not to hold his breath.

“Because you may not trust me, but neither do you trust Command. You’re an intelligent woman, Captain. That’s why I came to you,” Akashi continued.

“So I don’t trust them. That still gives me no reason to deal with the likes of your so-called  _Vorpal_  fleet. You defected long before Kuroko’s death.”

“Kuroko had certain knowledge. He passed it along to use prior to his death.”

“Certain knowledge.”

“Knowledge I’d be more than happy to share with an ally,” Akashi said brightly.

“I see.” Riko’s voice was wry. Kuroko wished he could see her, wished he could interrupt the conversation and just explain everything. But he had promised to stay out of it. “You drive a hard bargain, Akashi.”

“Thank you.”

“Wasn’t a compliment. The way you talk, about joining forces, it sounds like you think this will come to violence. Got any proof of that?”

“It already has come to violence. I’d say one dead man is proof of that.”

“One dead man is enough cause for war, then?”

“Not if you really think of him as just one dead man.”

A new voice interjected. “Don’t you dare speak to her—”

“That’s enough, First Officer!” Riko snapped before returning her attention back to Akashi. “I didn’t take your call for you to insult me, Akashi.”

“Nor was it my intention to insult you. I’m merely talking facts.”

Kuroko was thankful for Kiyoshi’s steadying presence, because he wanted to shout that it wasn’t true, that he wasn’t dead, that he was sorry.

“You know they didn’t recover his body,” Riko eventually said, conversationally.

“He faced a direct hit. There was no body left.”

“Yes. Not even a single drop of blood left to identify him by. Not for him or his Auxiliary.”

“It was a vicious attack.”

“Indeed. Put him on the line.”

“Excuse me?”

“Put Kuroko Tetsuya on the line.”

“He’s—”

“—alive, from the way you’re talking. Miracle or not, I’ve been in this world far longer than you. Now put him on the line before I tell my crew to open fire.”

Kuroko realized his hands were shaking, fisted at his sides. Still he waited for a sign from Akashi, some kind of signal. He would stick to the plan until given orders otherwise. Kiyoshi rubbed a hand on his back, attempting to soothe him.

<Kuroko,> Akashi said directly in his head, <I think you better get in here.>

He quickly entered the bridge to see Riko’s face on-screen. He could see others on the bridge behind her—Izuki, Mitobe, Koganei—but he focused on her.

“Captain,” he said hoarsely. Kuroko stopped there, unable to find the right words now that they were gazing at each other.

“Lieutenant,” she replied.

“It’s just Kuroko now.”

“Kuroko, then. That was quite the disappearing act you pulled, even for you. The afterlife is a faraway place.”

“Yes, captain. Too far.”

“Well,” she leaned back in her chair, arms folding across her chest. There was something easy and warm about her expression that set Kuroko at ease.  _She’s going to let us join forces._  “What are you waiting for? Tell me everything.”

So he told her everything. About the Admiral, about the cadets, about the Auxiliaries and the AI, about the Kings. About the plan that had led to his ‘death’, about the Special Ops. Kuroko could tell the Miracles were listening just as intently as she was; he hadn’t been keen to discuss his experiences at length and they hadn’t pushed him for answers. The words all came pouring forth like a geyser unleased, all the pressure leaving him in a rush. Kiyoshi stayed quiet at his side the whole time.

 “No offense, Kuroko,” she said, “but ten people against the entirety of Central Command isn’t exactly what I’d call a great plan.”

It was eleven, if they counted Reo—more than that if they counted the cadets, but he didn’t bother to correct her count.

“It’s what I have. We’re stronger than you think.”

“Strong enough to take on the Admiral?”

Kuroko inclined his head. “We have to try, Captain.”

She sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair. The bridge crew was watching in silence, waiting for her decision.

“You’re not going to try alone. If it’s Central Command you want to take on, we’ll be right there with you.”

Kise let out a whoop of excitement, echoed by the shouts of the  _Tenebris_ crew. Kuroko couldn’t hold back his smile. Akashi put on a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tight.

“General Imayoshi, too, will make a strong ally, if you can contact him. Commander Nijimura of the Special Ops will mostly likely be with him.”

“Why not contact him yourself?”

“For reasons I’m certain you can guess, it’s best if we keep Kuroko a secret for now.”

“If that’s how you want to play it. I’ll see if I can’t find this General. Oh, and Kuroko?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“When this is all over with,” she said with a small smile, her dark eyes hopeful, “there’s a place for you back on the  _Tenebris_. If you want it.”

Kuroko swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes, Captain. Thank you.”

The call ended.

“She’s a sharp one, that Aida Riko,” Momoi said, with something close to admiration. “Although I suppose it was within your calculations that she would know Kuroko was still alive, Akashi?”

“Of course. I planned accordingly.”

Kuroko shrugged his hand off his shoulder. “You could have told me that,” he said, a bit sour. Akashi offered an apologetic smile.

“If I told everyone every possibility it would take hours. No plan is ever absolute.”

Kuroko resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Next time just tell me, Akashi.”

He could hear Kiyoshi laughing inside of his head and shot him a dirty look from the corner of his eyes. Kiyoshi smiled, completely unrepentant. Perhaps he, too, had guessed that Riko would know his death was merely a cover for his escape.

“Not to interrupt such a touching moment, but we’ve got trouble,” Takao said from over at the communications station. He was watching something on his dataplate, face pale. Midorima went to his side at once, peering down at the screen. His whole body went tense after observing for a few moments.

“The Admiral,” he said simply.

“Takao, what is it? What’s he saying?”

“Just give me a sec—” he tapped out a few commands, faster than Kuroko could hope to follow and the images from the dataplate bounced to the main screen. The Admiral’s face, as cold and as hard as ever, filled it.

“— _as for the so-called attack on the Special Operatives, I have no comment. I would like to make clear, however, that any further gathering of Fleet ships against Central Command will be seen as an act of war. We are here to preserve peace, for the people. For the greater good. I will not have that peace disrupted.”_

The Admiral blinked slowly, seeming to stare straight into Kuroko.

_“If they refuse to stand down, I will be forced to eliminate them. It would be unfortunate, to lose so many fine officers. I will give those who have defected a grace period of two days to return to their posts. After that—well.”_  He smiled. “ _I and my officers at Central Command will take action to protect that greater good.”_

The connection cut out, leaving the screen blank once more.

“Well, we better hope that General Imayoshi is an easy man to find,” Takao said, “because we’re going to need all the allies we can get.”

That was an understatement. Kuroko shivered, shifting surreptitiously closer to Kiyoshi. Seeing the Admiral again was more frightening than he had figured it would be, even if it was through a simple broadcast and not in person. He had a  _presence._

More frightening was his declaration of war.

It was real now. Truly real.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Planning took precedence over everything else. Besides the  _Murus_ and the  _Lancea,_  Murasakibara’s and Midorima’s old ships, there were ten others following after the  _Tenebris._ General Imayoshi had twenty under his command, and the  _Arcus_  was there alongside him.

Kuroko just hoped it would be enough to face all of Central Command.

Not that anyone was planning to let him fight.

He would find a way. He wouldn’t leave his friends to fight a war that was his own fault.

“Don’t blame yourself for this, Kuroko,” Kiyoshi told him. “War was bound to happen between the Fleet and Command, given enough time.”

“I pushed us over the edge.”

They were fighting for the right thing, he reminded himself constantly as they made preparations. The cadets were on-edge but determined to be brave. Kuroko wanted to leave them out of it, but they refused. He couldn’t help but to be proud of them.

The eve of war found him in his room with Kiyoshi, waiting, unable to sleep. The whole rebel fleet was planet-side, on an abandoned moon that reminded Kuroko too much of his homeworld to be comfortable.

“You should sleep,” Kiyoshi said quietly. Kuroko had left the lights dim, unwilling to turn them out completely and admit that there was a new day coming. If he didn’t sleep, maybe the fight would never come.

It was a foolish thought, but he still couldn’t turn out the lights.

“So should you,” Kuroko countered.

“Not until you do.”

He didn’t want to sleep. He needed to sleep.

Kiyoshi sat up with a sigh, pulling the dataplate from Kuroko’s loose fingers and laying it aside on the floor. “If you’re not going to sleep…” Kiyoshi kissed him, gentle, soft. Kuroko sighed, pushing himself up to chase after him when he pulled away.

He craved him, ached for his touch. He had for a long time.

Kuroko pressed close, closer than he had ever dared before, clambering into Kiyoshi’s lap. He pushed his tongue between his lips and Kiyoshi deepened the kiss, tilting his head, moving closer, so much closer. He still tasted sweet but mostly he tasted—warm. Alive. His fingers moved into Kuroko’s hair, aimlessly gripping, his other hand pressed into the small of his back.

_Do you feel it when I kiss you_ , Kuroko was too afraid to even ask, his breath gasping between them.  _Do you feel it when I touch you? Do you feel anything at all?_

“I feel,” Kiyoshi whispered, the sound ragged and wanting. “All of it, Kuroko.” His fingers were curled almost tight enough to pull Kuroko’s hair but he didn’t care; it only set his arousal burning with more interest. He ground against Kiyoshi experimentally, drawing a gasp from him.

There was no disguising the hard length pressed between them.

“Ah,” he said faintly, breathless. “It would appear I am fully operational.”

It should have been funny, but laughing was the last thing on Kuroko’s mind. Kiyoshi shivered when Kuroko pushed against him, head tilting back, exposing the length of his neck. Kuroko could see when he swallowed and the motion of his throat was entrancing. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the soft skin there, earning himself the smallest of sounds that went straight to his groin.

Kuroko kissed him again, not with desperation, but with need. Tender. Shaking. Closer. Kiyoshi broke away with a sigh, pressing their foreheads together. The thud of his heart beneath his skin was loud in the silence, the sound of their breaths between them a mismatched, glorious rhythm. Kuroko leaned in and Kiyoshi obligingly leaned too, dropping soft kisses against his lips.

Kiyoshi was quiet except for his heavy breathing, hands moving restlessly against Kuroko's overheated skin. He felt on fire with his touch, so alive, so burning, burning.

He could not recall how he ever could have denied himself this. How he ever could have looked Kiyoshi in the eyes, eyes that said ‘I want to hold you’ and turned away.

“Are you scared?” he asked.

“No.”

He had been, before. But now he couldn’t get enough of the taste of him. Kiyoshi smiled, reckless, hands curving over his hips. Kuroko buried his face in his neck so he didn’t have to see, didn’t have to feel his face burn so red. Kiyoshi just wrapped him in his arms, kissing the soft spot beneath his ear, splaying his fingers over his waist. Such a simple touch, but he felt it in such minute detail. Every callous, every tiny shift of muscle.

“Kuroko.”

Kuroko hummed in response, pulling away just enough so they could kiss again, just once, soft, gentle. Kuroko looked at him, the mussed strands of his hair, his dark, dark eyes, his swollen lips.  He wanted to ask if it was okay, the two of them. He wanted to ask—something. He wasn’t entirely sure.

But then Kiyoshi kissed him again, breathless, body pressing against his, holding him even tighter. When he finally pulled away, Kuroko was half-drunk on the feeling.

If they were going to stop, now was the time.

“Kuroko,” he said again. The way he said it gave him chills. Kuroko bit his lip and tried to hold still in his lap. Kiyoshi murmured his name again, placing a kiss along his neck, Kuroko tilting back his jaw for him readily.

“I want you inside me," he rasped out against his throat, low and clear and heavenly to Kuroko's ears. "I want you. I'm yours. Please.”

Kuroko's mind went perfectly blank for several moments before he surged forward, kissing him fiercely, teeth clacking once but the pain was nothing. Kiyoshi groaned soft in his mouth as he ground them together, slow circles.

“Please,” he repeated, less controlled. “Please.”

 “Yours,” Kuroko murmured, trying to clear his head to think of where he could find lube. The Med Bay, probably, but like hell was he going there.

“Yours.” His fingers dug into Kuroko's skin, leaving white tracks in the already pale skin.

Kuroko let them press together a few moments more before getting up and taking a few steps back. Kiyoshi watched him with wanting eyes but there was worry there too. As if Kuroko could even think of leaving him now.

He went for the lubricant that he knew Kiyoshi rubbed onto his amputated leg when it ached—a pain he never admitted to but Kuroko could tell it was there all the same. It would have to do.

He returned to their bed, tossing the container by the pillow, and lightly pressed against Kiyoshi’s chest until he obediently lay down. There he paused.

“You're sure about this,” he said, needing to hear it again.

“Please.”

“It will be good for you? You'll feel it?”

Kiyoshi laughed, shaky. “Even I'm not good enough an actor to fake this.”

Kuroko nodded and went for his pants, unbuttoning them carefully and tugging down. Kiyoshi helpfully raised his hips off the bed.

Kuroko wasn't sure what he was expecting. The scarring on his thighs was no surprise, but he was faintly surprised when his cock sprang free of his pants and underwear. It looked  _human_  was his first mortifying thought that made him blush furiously red. It was...sizable, was his second even more mortifying thought.

“Like what you see?” Kiyoshi said teasingly, but when Kuroko looked up his face was quite serious. Self-conscious almost.

“Yes.”

His surprise was barely visible; a fluttering of his eyelashes, a softening of his mouth, but it was there. It was worth the somewhat embarrassing admission. He leaned forward, not missing the hitch of Kiyoshi’s breath when his cock became trapped between their stomachs, and pressed his lips to his, slower and gentle this time. Promising him to stay, that he wanted this as badly as he did.

He shouldn't.

Kuroko was beyond caring what he should and shouldn't feel. Kiyoshi was something else entirely, a force a nature, something unstoppable. He drew him in like a gravity field, like he was the sun and Kuroko the moon, moving in a dance through the sky.

“You too,” Kiyoshi murmured against his lips, tugging at his waistband insistently.

“Be patient, Kiyoshi.”

“Teppei.”

Kuroko sucked in a breath.

“Teppei,” he said carefully, tasting each character on his tongue. “Be patient.”

“Like a stone,” he promised, sliding his hand up Kuroko's chest where he thumbed over a nipple and made him hiss.

Kuroko wanted to take his time with him but he was starting to push his limits.

He kissed Kiyoshi one more time before sliding down, paying homage to each scar with his lips, kissing the ridge of his hipbones, hands gripping his thighs. True to his word Kiyoshi held still, but Kuroko heard him inhale sharply, felt his muscles quiver beneath him.

When he finally touched his cock, Kiyoshi made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a choke, even though it was just a light stroke of Kuroko's fingers down the shaft before he moved upwards to the sensitive head.

He leaned down, eyes on Kiyoshi, and flicked the tip of his tongue against the head of his dick, sliding it along the slit. His hands were already white-knuckled in the sheets, teeth worrying at his lower lip, eyes hazy. Kuroko had never been one to give head without being asked first but this—this. He slowly slid his cock between his lips, sucking lightly, swirling his tongue around it, and Kiyoshi’s eyes fluttered shut. A soft moan escaped him, stomach muscles tensing.

There was no way he could take all of it. He reached up and wrapped his fingers around whatever was left, rubbing gently and he gave another stuttering moan. Kuroko moved his head faster, sucking hard, the wet sounds of the movement blending with his heavy breathing is a way that delighted him. Kiyoshi was so beautiful. Sucking slowly up his dick, Kuroko laved his tongue over him before pulling off with a pop.

Kiyoshi whined.

Kuroko smiled.

Kuroko sat up, stroking his cock with a loose slow grip, fingers sliding over spit-slick skin. “Hand me the lube?” he rasped out, reaching down to palm at his own arousal still trapped beneath his clothes. Kiyoshi opened his eyes, gaze going straight towards him. He blinked a few times before clumsily grabbing the container.

“Those clothes are going to get in the way,” he said, sounding remarkably calm for someone with their dick in another person’s hand. Kuroko hummed in agreement, squeezing tighter to elicit another moan before sliding his hand away. He popped the button on his pants and wriggled out of them, feeling rather graceless, and hooked his thumbs into the band of his underwear.

He paused there, watching Kiyoshi’s gaze travel down his body hungrily, before dragging them down and off with little ceremony. His cock sprang out, arching towards his stomach, head already slick with precome. Kiyoshi made another of those soft, soft noises. He dropped the lube and reached out to grab his hips tight, pulling Kuroko until he sat on his chest. Far too close to Kiyoshi’s face.

Kuroko could only shiver as he pressed a soft, teasing kiss to the head of his cock.

“Like what you see?” Kuroko murmured.

“Yes,” was his fierce reply, voice nothing but a deep rumble that went straight through Kuroko’s bones in the most delicious way.

“Oh.”

No one had ever said that before to him. Not that he had asked, either, but no one had ever said it quite like that. Kuroko had been called beautiful before, the way a porcelain doll was beautiful, the way something fragile, untouchable, was beautiful.

No one had ever looked at him and said that they wanted him like this.

With a hard swallow, Kuroko knelt up away from his mouth, grabbing the lube and squirming down his body until he was at the right angle. He coated his fingers liberally, helplessly aware of Kiyoshi’s gaze on him, his words looping inside his head _.  I want you, I want you, I want you._

Physically, yes. But Kuroko could tell he meant it as much more than that.

Steadying Kiyoshi’s hip with his clean hand, he pressed his fingers against his entrance, spreading the cool liquid. He heard Kiyoshi breathe out slowly, relaxing beneath him, and he finally slid one finger inside.

It was tight. Warm. When Kiyoshi let out a small noise, thighs shaking ever so slightly, Kuroko thrust his finger gently, exploring. He leaned forward, sliding his hand from his hip to his cock, running his thumb over the leaking slit.

“And here I thought,” he gasped in a breath as Kuroko slid another finger inside, moving gentle but deep. “You were r-reserved.”

“I am.” Kuroko couldn’t take his eyes off of him, couldn’t look away from his trembling body, his hips that moved to meet his fingers. “Just not with you.”

Kiyoshi whimpered as Kuroko scissored and spread and thrust his fingers patiently to spread the lube around. He wanted him. So badly. But watching him spread out beneath him, willing and wanting, was like a drug—both maddening and mesmerizing. He could watch him like this for hours. There was a deep flush all up his chest, and he could see lights flickering, faintly, from beneath his scarred skin.

“I’m,” he broke off, biting his lip, brow furrowing with pleasure, which was an entirely new expression that fascinated Kuroko. He wanted to see all the faces Kiyoshi could make. “Honored.”

Kuroko hummed in response, withdrawing his fingers—he didn’t miss the soft gasp Kiyoshi made as he pulled out—to reapply more lube before going back to his ministrations. Kiyoshi bit his lower lip, head thrown back, hands shaking where they gripped the sheets as Kuroko slid two fingers back inside. He spread his legs further, moving his hips restlessly, trying to move Kuroko into a faster pace.

When Kuroko slid a third finger inside, he crumbled beneath him.

“K-Kuroko!” he stuttered out, barely more than breath. “I’m ready, I’m ready, please—”

Kuroko kissed him hard, pulling away his fingers after a small slice of eternity had passed. He gave his erection a cursory once-over, slicking himself. Kiyoshi’s breath hissed between his teeth when Kuroko pushed into him.

He held still for a while, letting Kiyoshi adjust. He was already shaking with his desire, hardly capable of the waiting he was determined to do.

“Kuroko.” He didn’t sound any calmer, but one of his hands slid to his buttock, hauling him closer. They both let out a noise at the new friction, the sensation of going even deeper and closer together. “Please.”

“Tetsuya,” he gasped out in correction. Kiyoshi kissed him lightly.

“Tetsuya,” he whispered against his skin and the name sounded just as perfect as he had always imagined it would be in his voice, on his tongue. Kuroko moved at a slow pace, searching for a rhythm that would suit them both, reveling in every gasp and moan he could wring from Kiyoshi.

“Teppei,” Kuroko said, just because he could, and the other man shivered beneath him, bucking his hips. “Is this—good?”

“Perfect. You’re perfect.” Kiyoshi’s nails scratched at the skin of his back and all the combined sensations had Kuroko shaking a little above him. He leaned down, closer, sucking a deep red mark on Kiyoshi’s collarbone. _Mine._ The deep, slow grind they moved at was maddeningly wonderful, Kiyoshi’s body gripping him tight.

Kiyoshi looks utterly lost in him.

Kuroko can relate.

“Tetsuya.” He rolled his hips, over and over, meeting Kuroko’s slow, uneven pace, every thrust sending the both of them higher, ever higher. Kiyoshi grasped too tightly at his shoulders, helpless panting, breathing out Kuroko’s name repeatedly between the moans.

Kuroko wanted to close his eyes and bask in the sensations, try to make this moment last longer, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away from Kiyoshi beneath him. He shifted his angle and Kiyoshi moaned louder, leaning up to give him a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

“Right there,” he said, voice cracking.

“There?” Kuroko thrust a little harder and Kiyoshi _whimpered_ against his lips, nodding, nails digging deeper into his skin.

“There, right there, _please_ —”

Kuroko could feel his orgasm building hot, deep in his belly. Trapped between Kiyoshi’s thighs, he moved his hips forward hard, trying not to lose control of the pace but failing, letting his gasping moans fall free from his lips.

“Teppei—”

“’m close too,” he whispers, his entire beautiful body tight and tense against his. It was building, _building_. Kuroko grabbed one of his hands, lacing their fingers together. _I want you, I want you, I love you, I do._ There was no way he could last, not like this.

“T-Teppei, come for me?”

Kiyoshi let out a strangled, _beautiful_ noise, back arching off the bed, head thrown back against the sheets and Kuroko just kept saying his name like it was the only thing he knew. Kuroko ground hard and deep one last time before he was just _gone_ , coming hard than he ever had, whimpering in his ears. Kiyoshi let out a shaky gasp of his name, his come slick between them.

When Kuroko pulled out, Kiyoshi exhaled a sigh, going boneless against the mattress. Kuroko briefly gave into the temptation to just sprawl on top of him before adjusting so he was half-laying on him Kiyoshi drowsily threaded his fingers through Kuroko’s sweaty hair, skin pressing on skin. He burned hot.

“Fuck,” Kiyoshi said, once. Softly, eloquent. Kuroko hummed his agreement, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his collarbone, next to the darkening bruise he had left.

They lay like that for a while, limbs wrapped around each other, until Kiyoshi leaned up and gave him a deep kiss. Kuroko shivered and let him, muscles still twitching from the intensity of his orgasm.

 “Tetsuya,” he murmured, smiling against his mouth. “Thank you.”

“Are you seriously thanking me for sex?”

He laughed, the sound of it strangely breathy and amused. There were still lights flickering spasmodically beneath him skin and Kuroko pressed his fingers to the scars on his chest. “No, just—for everything. I’ve never—no one has ever made me feel the way you do. In every sense of the word.”

Kuroko felt the same but didn’t know if the words would mean much being repeated back.

“I love you.” It was simpler and not, all at once. _I love you, gods help me, but I do._

“I love you,” he said back, no hesitation. It felt good.

“I’m clean,” Kuroko said belatedly, realizing he should have said this before they had actually gone and had sex. “My shots are all up to date.”

“Auxiliaries can neither catch nor carry communicable diseases,” Kiyoshi informed him wryly. “One of the benefits, I suppose.”

“I still should have said so before—”

“Tetsuya, I would have stopped you.”

“Good.” Kuroko closed his eyes for a few moments, basking in the amazing amount of heat that Kiyoshi was throwing off. That _Teppei_ was throwing off.

“You’re surprisingly good at sex.”

“You thought I’d be bad?” He didn’t have the energy to be offended. The post-coital haze was slowly lifting, leaving him warm and sated, but also needing to tend to the practicality of cleaning themselves up.

“Less…energetic maybe.”

Kuroko made a vague noise, kissing him lightly.

“Let’s shower.”

Kuroko rolled from the bed, standing on shaking legs. Kiyoshi was just as unsteady, he was pleased to notice. Half-laughing at each other, they stumbled into the bathroom, turning the water on warm and sharing kisses in between washing up.

“Next time,” Kiyoshi murmured, curving a hand down his hip, pressing up behind him suggestively. Kuroko shivered, lips parting at the feel of him already half-hard against him.

“Yes.” He curled his fingers were Kiyoshi’s lay on his skin. If he wasn’t so tired, if they didn’t have to fight in a few scant hours, Kuroko would have taken him up on that ‘next time’ right then. But Kiyoshi was already stepping back and out of the spray of water.

 Dried off and back in bed, Kiyoshi pressed a gentle kiss to his cheeks and forehead as he wrapped his arms around him. Their legs, bare, tangled together.

It was warm in his arms.

Kuroko never wanted to leave.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading~


	11. Fragility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is technically only the first part of the last chapter, but it feels right to split them up, which is why this is significantly shorter than previous chapters.

 <We’re taking heavy fire!>

<I can’t hold them off—>

<Man down!>

Kuroko took aim and fired, trying his best to ignore the shouts around him and the ones echoing in his head. Ahead of him, Kiyoshi was taking out Command soldiers one after the other, easy as breathing.

Kuroko had lost track of who was where only minutes into the battle.

It was the smell that was getting to him. The acrid scent of the lasers, the tang of blood heavy in the air, the odor of burnt flesh and the purveying scent of death.

<I’m hit!>

That was Izuki. Kuroko automatically turned, looking, but he was nowhere in sight.

As it should be.

_“You have to stay back, Kuroko. You can’t be seen.”_

_“The others already know—”_

_“The crew of the Tenebris know. We can’t risk anyone else knowing or else this rebellion will fail before it’s begun.” Akashi looked him over, calculation in his sharp gaze. “We will need you in this fight, Kuroko. But you stick to the edges and you don’t, under any circumstances, get seen.”_

Kuroko had lost an hour of sleep enlisting Kiyoshi’s help with dying his hair black, but if anyone was employing facial recognition, it would only fool them for a matter of moments. Hopefully it would be enough.

“Eyes on the battle, Kuroko!” Kiyoshi called back. Kuroko clenched his jaw, taking aim again.

War was nothing like what he had thought. It was messy, it was heat and sweat and blood, it was panic. Sheer panic. There was no time for thinking, only for action.

There was no time for fear.

He fired. One after the other, not taking the time to see if the shots found their target.

“Behind you!”

Kuroko was knocked to the ground, all the air rushing out of him. He felt the dig of a blade in his arm and yelled, wriggling to wrench himself free, desperately slamming his elbows back to knock off his assailant. He was able to flip over. His attacker wore a helmet, their face partially obscured by the lights moving along the shiny polycarb.

Kuroko grabbed for the knife. Why not a gun? But Kuroko could smell the melted polycarb on them, could see the holes in his uniform where it melted through to his flesh and the muscles beneath.

No time to think, no time to be sick at the horrifying glimpse of pale bone amidst the red char.

He twisted their arm, dug the knife into their belly, slicing through their stained silvery uniform like paper. The soldier died with nothing but a choked exhale, their innards spilling out of them and onto Kuroko until he managed to throw them off of him.

“Tetsuya!” Kiyoshi cried out.

“I’m fine!” he managed to yell back, shoving the bloodied knife through his utility belt and scrambling for his gun. Nothing had stopped, nothing would stop until the battle was at an end. And the only end would be the death of the Admiral.

Or else the death of all of them.

“Look sharp now, Operative!” a familiar voice snapped out.

“Now, now, Nijimura. Go gently. It’s his first war, after all,” came Imayoshi’s laughter.

Kuroko turned back in disbelief. They were side by side, troops all around them.

No. They weren’t supposed to be at the back. They were meant to be at the front, as far away from him as possible.

_No time to think._

“Sir!” he barked out roughly, getting to his feet and scanning the surroundings for his next target.

“It’s time to move up.”

“I’m meant to stay—”

“At the back? I admire your loyalty to following your friend’s orders, but don’t forget what you’re fighting for. Don’t forget the real enemy.”

As if Kuroko could forget anything.

“They can’t know I’m alive,” Kuroko explained, still scanning the area for more attackers. “As much as I want to be on the frontlines, it’s not possible.”

He belonged at the front. That’s where the Miracles were, that’s where his Captain was. Even Reo was up there, and he was barely cleared from bedrest.

If they were going to wage war, they should be together.

“Here.” Nijimura yanked off his polycarb facemask and shoved it over Kuroko’s head. “Figured it might be a problem. It’s new tech that every Operative gets. Blocks facial recognition.”

He fired off a shot at a straggler, glowering hard.

“Don’t you need it?”

“Does it look like I need it?” was his snappy reply before signaling the ‘move out’ order to the Operatives following after him. Imayoshi laughed again.

“Best if you and your Kiyoshi Teppei stick with them. My crew and I will be rounding up the stragglers. Have a good fight, Kuroko.”

Kuroko nodded numbly, waving Kiyoshi along with him as he began trotting along with the rest of the Special Operatives following Nijimura as he cut a path to the frontlines. When he chanced a glance back he could see Imayoshi with a fierce, wild smile on his face. He remembered the glimpse he had caught of his naked eyes and shivered, facing back to the front before he could trip over the rocky terrain.

Kuroko twisted his wrist, feeling for the bracelet. Ogiwara was with him, like always.

<Holding up all right?>

<Yes.>

Kiyoshi brushed elbows with him, but that was all the contact he initiated before taking up a position slightly ahead of him. A watchful guard dog.

There had been no time to see Nigou before the Command ships came down and chaos broke loose, but Kuroko held on tight to Izuki’s promise that he was well and safe aboard the  _Tenebris._

How long had the fight been going on? It could have been minutes, it could have been hours or years. Everything was the smell and the sound and the taste of violence.

Kuroko didn’t know how long it took to get to the front, but he was suddenly there, suddenly aware. The Command soldiers were everywhere, a great wave of silver breaking against the black uniforms of the Fleet. The distant cries of his friends were now present.

He swore he saw Aomine and Kagami charging ahead with a great yell, Kise at their heels, but he lost track of them at once. The only person he knew for certain was Murasakibara, towering above both sides, cutting a great swatch through the silver soldiers.

Kuroko took aim and fired. Kiyoshi was close to his side, laughing.

What there was to laugh about, Kuroko couldn’t say.

He simply kept breathing, kept aiming. The lights of Nijimura’s helmet were distracting, but he didn’t dare take it off for fear of being recognized. It could hardly matter anymore, not with this turmoil around them, but he didn’t dare. In any case, there was _no time._

Before he knew it, Kuroko was being swept along, further and further into the sea of silver, chasing after targets, trying not to become a target himself.

“Kuroko, no!” Kiyoshi shoved him out of the way of a laser shot, letting it graze his shoulder with a grunt of pain, firing at their attacker without missing a beat.

There was no time to thank him, but Kuroko was certain he knew.

“I wondered where I might find you, Kuroko Tetsuya!” came a voice, sounding clear and crisp above the noise.

The Admiral’s stance was loose and relaxed, even with the gun in his hands. He walked as though the gunfire around him meant nothing—like the battle was beneath him. Kuroko leveled his gun even though he could see the deflectors he was wearing that would make his weapon next to useless.

“Admiral,” Kuroko said tightly.

“If you hadn’t insisted on playing the martyr, this could have ended peacefully. There would be no need for this senseless…mess.”

The battle seemed to part around them, silver, silver, silver. Where was the Fleet?

“Auxiliary Kiyoshi, fire.”

Kiyoshi went rigid beside him.

Kuroko’s stomach dropped. Even as he turned, gun raised, he felt Kiyoshi move, felt the burn of the laser fire go scorching past his head. There was an instant where their eyes met, an instant where Kuroko could see Kiyoshi, _his_ Kiyoshi, still fighting for control.

“Run,” he grated out right before firing again. Distantly Kuroko could hear the Admiral bark out a laugh, could feel the bite of the laser as it brushed past his arm.

_You can’t have him._

Kuroko ran.

The Admiral’s eyes widened in surprise at Kuroko barreling full-speed towards him and smoothly raised his gun and fired. Pain bloomed in his left shoulder but Kuroko didn’t stop. The deflectors could stop laser fire but they couldn’t stop _him._

Kuroko was smaller but he could still knock him to the ground.

“You should have taken my deal,” he said as they grappled. He was able to fire off one more shot before Kuroko could yank the gun from his hands, throwing it aside. But no sooner had he done that, the Admiral threw him superior weight around, rolling them so he was on top, pulling a small knife on him. “Now you and all your kind will die here.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Kuroko managed to grunt out, arms shaking as he struggled to keep the knife from his throat.

There was no more breath for speech. Kuroko’s grip was weakening.

He left the Admiral’s arm fall, twisting so the knife dug into his shoulder—he distantly heard a scream, even more distantly recognized it as his own—freeing his hands to go for the knife at his belt. He swung upwards, into the Admiral’s unprotected belly.

It was over.

Blood ran through his fingers, wet and warm.

He heard Kiyoshi’s relieved laughter and smiled shakily. He was back. Everything was going to be fine. With this, the war was over.

Kuroko heard a shout behind him and turned. His ears were ringing but he could see the man’s lips move, could see the grenade he was instants away from throwing.

“For the Admiral!” the Command soldier cried out.

The grenade was headed straight towards him. Kuroko’s helmet was tracking the trajectory even though he knew he was the only possible target.

The lights flashed red at him. Poison frag. Impact imminent. No time for evasive maneuvers.

It was over.

At least he would die having fought for the right thing.

Before Kuroko could blink, a great shadow passed in front of him.

He would know that back anywhere.

“Kiyoshi, no!”

The world exploded.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Breath returned. Motion and light.

Kiyoshi.

Kuroko coughed, forcing his eyes opened. Everything hurt.

Kiyoshi.

_Teppei._

“Stop moving,” Midorima ordered, but that was unthinkable. Kiyoshi was hurt, he needed help, he needed him—

 “He’s gone, Kuroko. There’s nothing more to be done.”

He was wrong. He had to be. Kiyoshi had promised.

_Stay with me._

_Always. Of course_.

Kuroko tried to shake him, tried to get him to open his eyes, but Midorima was hauling him away, snapping out at someone to hold him down before it was too late.

The pain was starting to set in, heavy and horrible, his whole body screaming with it, his head light.

 “Shin-chan, it’s no good.”

 “I’m not giving up.”

More pain. Kuroko closed his eyes. Why wouldn’t Kiyoshi respond to him? Why wouldn’t he wake up?

 “It’s shredding his heart, it’s over.”

 “Don’t you tell me it’s over!” Kuroko distantly could feel wetness falling on his face. “I’m going to save him. It just…it will take some time. If we can get him back to the  _Vorpal_ —”

 “He doesn’t have that long, Shin-chan,” Takao said with a shaky laugh. “You know he doesn’t.”

 “Takao is correct, Shintarou. Give him the clarifier.” Akashi’s voice.

 “I refuse. I can still try to save him.”

 “You’re only prolonging his pain. Give him the clarifier, or I will.”

The world came into sudden, pain-free focus around him. Kuroko gasped for the breath he could now draw, eyes flying open, and tried to sit up only to find nearly all movement impossible.

 “Kuroko, we need to know your final wishes. What to do with your,” Akashi paused, clearing his throat. “Your body.”

“The war?”

“Over. We won.”

“Captain Riko—”

“—is well and alive, along with most of the crew of the _Tenebris._ We…lost many. But it’s really over.”

Kuroko turned his head, aching anew at the sight of the bloody wreck that once was Auxiliary Kiyoshi Teppei.

“He’s really gone, isn’t he?”

 “’fraid so, Kuroko,” Takao whispered. Midorima was silent, hands fisted in his uniform pants. His tears, too, were silent.

“You can’t save him?”

 “If his ports are safe, technically all we need is to find a new vessel. But Kuroko, we need to know what you want—”

 “Mine. Use mine.”

 “Kuroko, you don’t—”

 “Please. Use my body to save him. I’m dying anyway. Please.”

Akashi was frowning. “Absolutely not, Kuroko. You can’t do this out a misplaced sense of guilt about the Auxiliaries—”

 “I’m doing it because I love him.”

Kuroko looked to Midorima. He took in a shuddering breath and nodded.

“I can do it. If that’s what you really want.”

“Whatever it takes,” Kuroko said, the world fading fast. The clarifier only lasted about five minutes, no matter how high-end of product.

He just needed Kiyoshi to live. Whatever it took.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	12. One

“I’m calling it. Time of death, 1600 hours.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He felt heavy.

He felt…not quite real. His awareness of his body was a distant thing.

<Good morning, Kuroko.>

Kuroko. So that was his name, Kuroko. He opened his eyes.

Light assaulted him, bright and searing, and he shut his eyes immediately. The damage was done though; with the return of one sense, everything rushed in on him. He was painfully aware of the metal table he was on, the stench of blood and electricity pressing on him.

Where am I?

<You’re aboard the Tenebris.>

Of course he was, the Tenebris was home. He felt strangely assured of that fact. The being named Kuroko opened his eyes, more cautiously. It was still painful, but no longer as overwhelming.

 “Kuroko? Kuroko!”

The voice was too loud. Kuroko cringed, flinching further into himself when hands fell upon him, a shock of red hair coming into view.

“Midorima, he’s awake!”

 “Please don’t accost my patient, Kagami.”

 “Right.” The hands withdrew, but the man continued to hover above him, a worried frown on his face as he stared at Kuroko. A new person came into view. Midorima, he supposed.

“How do you feel?”

Kuroko’s mind was blank.

 “I don’t understand the question,” he said finally.

Kiyoshi sighed. _He means if you’re in pain. Except for those lights, we’re doing just fine._

Ah, of course. _Thank you_ , Kuroko thought. Kiyoshi was smiling, he could tell.

“Are you in pain?” Midorima was asking now. “Your…chest? Anywhere?”

 “The lights are too bright, but we’re fine,” Kuroko assured him.

 “We?”

 “Kiyoshi and I, we’re fine.” Kiyoshi was him, and he was Kiyoshi. He was also Kuroko. He felt very certain of that. Yet he had no memory of these people who kept staring and acted so concerned about him.

He looked around himself.

_Med Bay_ , Kiyoshi supplied.

_I know that._

“Kuroko, what do you remember?”

 “This is the Med Bay,” he replied helpfully. “We’re aboard the Tenebris.”

“Yes, but—do you remember how you got here?”

Kuroko thought but there was no before. There was nothing.

_Liar. You just don’t want to remember_ , Kiyoshi scolded him.

There was a loud crash from further down in the room and several pairs of feet tromped into the room, headed quickly to Kuroko’s bed. He sat up at last, looking at their unfamiliar faces.

“Tenebris said he was awake—” the cat-eyed one said anxiously, skittering over and grabbing Kuroko’s hands. “Kuroko, I’m so glad you’re back.”

Kuroko slowly pulled his hands out of his grip. How long had he been asleep for, for all of them to look at him like this? Taking a breath he delved back into his mind, searching for an answer. Kiyoshi sidled up to him silently, surrounding him with comforting warmth as the memories slowly tumbled back into place.

_Poison frag. Impact imminent._

_“Kiyoshi, no!”_

_The world exploded._

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

_“Whatever it takes,” he begged. “Please.”_

_He just needed Kiyoshi to live._

“I died,” Kuroko realized, looking at the strain in their expressions. He could remember them now, too. His Miracles. How had he forgotten them, even for a moment? He looked down at his hands, unable to meet their gazes. There was a bracelet around his wrist, thin, black metal.

Ogiwara.

_Auxiliary._

“I’m dead,” he corrected himself softly.

He could feel his new mechanical heart whirring steadily in his chest. Kuroko bit his lip to keep back a laugh as all he could think of was _Iron Heart_. Kiyoshi was all around him, warm and welcome—right there yet far too distant.

_You know I never liked that name._

“I was able to preserve your mind,” Midorima said, his voice hoarse and exhausted. “As well as to rescue Kiyoshi’s ports from his body and place them in yours.”

People had tried in the past to do similar things—to build an Auxiliary from two people, to make two minds work as one. They had all failed, in the end. Humans weren’t meant to co-exist like that.

_We can beat the odds_ , Kiyoshi whispered to him, still smiling. Kuroko was inclined to believe him. _I know we can._

“You’re not dead,” Akashi said fiercely. “You’re just alive in a different way.”

“That’s kind of you to say, Akashi.”

“If you were dead, you wouldn’t be talking to us,” Aomine said, visibly distraught. “So shut up about it.”

“Dai-chan, you can’t talk to him like that!” Momoi exclaimed. Kagami stepped close again, almost hesitant as he reached out and touched his shoulder. His hand was cold, nervous. _Tenebris_ was probably advising him to seek medical attention for the racing heart Kuroko could detect hammering in his chest.

“I’m glad you’re back, Kuroko. I know it’s not the same, but I’m still glad.”

“Thank you, Kagami.” Kiyoshi said it with him, making Kuroko’s voice ache a little. Kagami and the others startled.

“Was that—”

Kiyoshi laughed with Kuroko’s vocal cords.

“Don’t tell me you all forgot about me! I’m still here too, you know.”

“That’s weird,” Murasakibara mumbled. Himuro gently elbowed him with a quiet reprimand not to be rude.

“That will take some getting used to. Kiyoshi, I’d like to thank you for your services to the Fleet.”

“No need to stand on formality, Akashi. We’re all friends here.”

A few more words were exchanged, but Midorima chased them out so he could run diagnostics on him to make sure he was running properly. After doing so, he left with a brusque order to get some rest. Before he could go, Kuroko asked him a question.

“Who do I belong to now?”

He stopped just before the door, keeping his back to Kuroko.

“No one.” His voice was low and hard.

“I’m an Auxiliary. That means I must be assigned—”

“You belong to yourself,” he snapped out. “I did this because it was your last wish, Kuroko. But I refuse to sentence you to a live of subservience when you’re the reason we’re all saved.”

Kuroko looked at his hands again. He was almost surprised to find them clean, instead of covered in blood.

He hadn’t been thinking of saving anyone. He had been thinking that he didn’t want to die.

Kuroko didn’t have it in him to feel guilty over that.

The Admiral was dead.

That was enough, for now. He suspected a great many things would start changing. Maybe being the first free Auxiliary was the start of that change.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Kuroko slept in fits and bursts, unable to stay asleep with being so aware of his new head companion—nor did he feel tired. He remembered Kiyoshi saying once that Auxiliaries didn’t require much sleep.

Auxiliary. That was still a new, frightening thing to consider.

He clambered out of bed and padded into the bathroom, thinking that a shower might help settle his racing thoughts, but froze at the sight of himself in the mirror.

Kuroko stared at his reflection, searching for any traces of Kiyoshi. It was only him, the black dye still fading from his hair, blue eyes shadowed but alert.

_I’m here_ , Kiyoshi promised.

_I know._

He was achingly aware of him, like was he standing right beside him yet somehow still out of reach. His face stretched into a smile that was unfamiliar. Too wide. The ghost of Kiyoshi, trapped inside him.

_Do you wish I hadn’t?_

_I wish I could have saved you._

_But us, now—_

_I love you._

Kuroko’s vision went blurry with tears he didn’t want to shed, and he stretched out trembling fingers, touching the cool glass holding his still smiling reflection.

“I love you,” he said back, voice cracking on the words.

 The shower didn’t help, but it did let him pretend his tears were only water.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 When he next woke up, he wasn’t alone. He could feel them there even before he was fully awake. Another gift of his new, altered reality. Auxiliaries were always aware of each other. Always connected.

Reo was quiet for a while, sitting at his bedside.

 “What do I call you?”

Kuroko thought about it, not truly certain what would be the most correct.. Kiyoshi offered no guidance from within, so he shrugged.

“Whatever you like.”

“But it’s the both of you in there.”

“Yes,” they said together. Reo’s brow creased.

 “How about this,” they said slowly, reaching out just as slow and resting their hand on top of his-theirs. “I’ll specify who I’m talking to. That way nobody’s confused.”

Kuroko felt a lot of things, but confused wasn’t one of them. He was himself, but he was also Kiyoshi. It felt natural enough for him.

 “That’s fine.”

“You’re a hero now, you know, Kuroko. The worlds are singing your praises out there.”

If the worlds knew what he was now, he doubted the singing would last.

“Does it trouble you? What you’ve become?”

Kuroko didn’t rightfully know.

“I only wish,” they said together, “that I could have saved him.”

Reo’s smile was sad and beautiful.

“I believe you saved him from the moment he met you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Days passed. They adjusted.

There were a few mishaps when Kiyoshi tried to take control of their body’s movements at the same time Kuroko was controlling it, but otherwise their shared headspace felt fine. There was a leaking of memories and thoughts between them but Kuroko had nothing left to hide from him anymore.

Whether Kiyoshi felt the same was unclear, but he didn’t tell him to stay out of his memories, either.

There was a constant pressure in his head—an awareness of every single Auxiliary aboard the ship. _Tenebris_ explained it to him as a proximity alert, and that they could access the mindbanks of any of them if they asked and had authorization to.

_Tenebris_ herself seemed to be thrilled to have him back, even in this new capacity, and her enthusiasm eased the transition somewhat. Kuroko still had a loop playing in his head _, I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead, but_ it became background noise rather than sitting at the forefront of his thoughts.

Izuki snuck Nigou into the Med Bay to visit, but the loyal dog refused to leave his side when it came time to go; only Takao’s intervention kept Midorima from losing his temper at the sight of him on the bed beside Kuroko, and even then it was a near thing.

It had been a whole week, Kuroko found out, since they both died. He tried not to picture Midorima up to his elbows in their guts, but it was a hard visual to shake.

When he asked about Kiyoshi’s original body, he was relieved to find out he had been cremated and given a proper burial with the other fallen Fleet soldiers.

Command was all but wiped out, and with the Admiral gone, everything was in disarray. The combined forces of General Imayoshi, Commander Nijimura, and Akashi were working to hold the government together and keep the people calm—something made easier by Kuroko’s new status as hero.

He didn’t want the fame or the glory. He just wanted peace.

“You should speak to them,” Akashi told him.

“About what?”

“About everything that happened. About how Auxiliaries should be granted more rights and freedom. About how people should have the right to choose death or,” he made a small gesture to Kuroko, “transformation.”

Kuroko stared out at the stars, Kiyoshi warm and close in his mind. He had fled to the observatory deck the moment he was cleared to leave the Med Bay, and thus far it wasn’t proving to be that safe of a place to be alone. The Miracles were always chasing after him, as though they were afraid to leave him on his own. “I’m not much of a speaker, Akashi.”

“Just pretend you’re talking to your friends. It’s easier than you think. Besides,” he clapped a hand to his back, “there’s an outcry for you to appear, now that people know you’re back.”

“And I suppose,” Kiyoshi sniped, “you’re the one who told them we were back.”

Akashi’s eyes widened slightly, but his expression was back to normal in an instant.

“Kiyoshi,” he said in greeting. “Forgive me, but it was an unavoidable matter. As the interim leader, I was expected to give answers, and the people deserve the truth, now more than ever.”

He wasn’t wrong. It didn’t make Kiyoshi—or Kuroko—any happier about the idea.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The cadets finally visited him, barely able to look him in the eyes at first. Furihata nearly burst into tears when Kiyoshi spoke with Kuroko’s voice. Gentle words, asking after their health even though he could read their condition without asking.

“You deserve so much better,” Furihata said.

He wasn’t wrong, really.

And that only made it harder to hear.

Doing the right thing came with a price, apparently.

_I’d pay it again_ , Kiyoshi whispered in his ear.

_Me too._

Kuroko watched the cadets go. They had only sustained minor injuries from the battle, and they were alive and whole. He couldn’t ask for anything more than that. What’s more, they were even closer as a team.

_Me too._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“One speech, Akashi.”

Akashi smiled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 He had been expecting an affirmative answer from Kuroko obviously, from the speed he was able to set up the conference. Kuroko’s words would be broadcasted live to countless worlds beneath the protection of the new Central Command and the Fleet, and numerous officers would be present in person.

Kuroko felt sick.

_I’m with you._ _Always._

_Literally,_ Kuroko thought with a choked laugh. Kise and Kagami, flanking him on either side, shot him worried looks but Kuroko just looked straight ahead.

“You can still back out,” Kagami offered. Kise patted his back.

“He can do it. Can’t you, Kuroko? You were always the strongest of us.”

Kuroko took a deep breath and nodded.

“I can do this.”

Akashi’s voice was filtering through the doors, too distant to be heard properly, but _Tenebris_ urged him forward when it was time.

Kuroko stepped through those doors, alone and yet not alone. Never alone.

 “Hello.”

Kuroko took another deep breath. The weight of everyone’s attention was almost unbearable when he was used to being passed over. Kiyoshi slid in close to him, offering his support. Kuroko swallowed back his nerves. He wasn’t alone.

“Thank you for being here today. My name is Kuroko Tetsuya. There’s a story I would like to tell you all.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The thunderous applause and cheers echoed in his ears for days.

It was only the first of many speeches.

Not long after, Akashi was officially instated as the new Admiral. Momoi was appointed his second-in-command, a position that had not existed before her.

The first thing to go was the silver uniforms.

The second were the AI.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“But I don’t want to leave my crew,” Tenebris said. She smiled, eyes bright. She had been so excited to see them, talking about how Riko visited her but how she had been hoping to meet them in person. “They need me here.”

“You don’t have to stay this way,” Kuroko tried saying again, but she just shook her head. Her hair had been brushed recently, which made it easier for Kiyoshi to braid. It was hard to look at her, the same way it had been hard to look at the exposed chest cavities of Hanamiya and Reo, but different. This was the same Tenebris who had been with him from the beginning of his career as an officer.

She was both friend and stranger.

“I don’t mind. I’d rather stay like this than take the chance I might die. I want to be with my crew.”

_Just leave it, Kuroko. She’s made up her mind._

_She could be free—_

_She is free. You saw to that._

Kuroko promised to visit as often as time allowed. She was so happy it made him want to cry.

Midorima was appointed the head of the crew that worked to free the AI from their former bonds to their ships. There were more failures than successes, Kuroko knew from the reports and the strain in Midorima’s face, but seeing the Auxiliaries returned to working bodies and freedom made it worth it, to Kuroko’s mind. Midorima must also think so, or else he would never have agreed to the work. No one had ever been able to order him around, not even Akashi. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 It was months before it happened. The time did nothing to dull the shock.

“I’m dying,” Reo said calmly.

They looked perfectly healthy to Kuroko’s eyes. But the way they stated it with such finality unnerved him. Kiyoshi stirred in his mind, uneasy but silent for the moment.

“Did Midorima tell you that?” Kuroko asked, just as calm.

“No.”

Kiyoshi broke from the silence. “What did you do, Reo?” As always, Kyoshi’s voice was not the same with only Kuroko’s vocal cords. The tone tasted strange on his tongue.

Reo smiled, beautiful as ever.

 “Clever boys, aren’t you two. I corrupted my ports.”

 “But why?”

 “I’ve lived for too long. I’m tired.”

 “What about Hayama?”

“I’ve contacted him so he knows. He’s old enough to look after himself now.”

“All because you’re tired.”

 “Give it another century and you’ll both know what I mean. That’s not why I’m telling you,” they sighed. “My body is fully functional. I want you—Teppei, rather, to have it.”

Kiyoshi went quiet, retreating to the recesses of their shared brain.

 “I know it won’t be the same, but sharing a body comes with difficulties, I’m sure. Think of it as my thanks for rescuing me.”

 “You don’t have to do this,” Kuroko said, trying to reason with them. They just shook their head, playing with the ends of their long hair.

 “But I want to. Anyway, it’s too late. This time tomorrow I’ll be gone.”

_Kiyoshi?_

_Don’t make me choose._

_I can’t choose for you._

_I don’t want to leave you._

“Teppei,” Reo said, very gentle, very soft, “if you stay as you are, the two of you will go mad. You don’t want to lose Kuroko, do you?”

“I won’t lose him,” Kiyoshi said roughly.

“You will,” Reo said, “if you continue like you are. I’m offering you a way out, that’s all. Think it over. If anyone can save you, it’s Midorima Shintarou.”

“I never asked to be saved!”

Kuroko was stunned into silence by Kiyoshi’s vehemence. He had thought that he would want to live. Had he chosen wrong? For once Kiyoshi didn’t offer any reassurance to him.

“Do you think so little of me, Teppei?” Reo didn’t bat an eyelash at his outburst, instead leaning in closer. “When you’re part of a team, sometimes you get things you never asked for. That’s how friends work.”

They took Kuroko’s limp hand between both of theirs, holding tight. “That’s how family works.”

“This is too much, Reo. Too much.”

“I think you’re forgetting all the times you put your life on the line for me, Teppei. Kuroko, you know how he is.”

He thought he did. He had an idea, at the very least.

_Are you afraid?_

_I don’t want to lose you. Not again._

_You will if we stay. You know you will._

_Aren’t you afraid?_

_Terrified._

“You’re sure about this, Reo?”

Their smile brightened.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Midorima was quiet throughout Kuroko’s entire explanation of what they wanted. He was so quiet that Kuroko couldn’t help wondering if he was really listening.

Kiyoshi was itching to go to Reo’s side, to be with them as they passed. But this needed to happen first.

“Has it ever occurred to you that you’re asking too much?” Midorima said, gazing distantly at his hands flat on the desk. “Has it occurred to you that maybe I’ve had enough of cutting my friends open, not knowing if they will survive? No,” he cut off Kuroko’s attempt to speak by standing abruptly. There was something wild about his eyes, a trembling tension in his whole body that took Kuroko and Kiyoshi aback. “Because you’re thinking only of yourself. Your selfish desire to be back with him.”

“If we stay like this, we will go mad,” Kiyoshi said quietly. “Both of us. Are you really willing to let that happen?”

“Stop it.”

“‘Man proposes, god disposes’,” Kuroko said.

“ _Stop it._  You can’t ask me to do this.”

“There’s no one else we can ask. Please, Midorima.”

He took in a deep, shuddering breath, eyes lidding.

 “Tell me one thing, Kuroko. If you’re dead, then what does it mean to be alive?”

Kuroko was shocked by the question, but Kiyoshi swooped in. Always, to the rescue.

“I’ll tell you when I find out.”

Midorima let out a short bark of a laugh.

He would do it.

Of course he would do it.

“Midorima—”

“Don’t thank me. God, don’t _thank_ me. Not for this.” He pointed a finger to the door. “Just go. Be with them. I have preparations to make.”

Kuroko left, but not before he saw that calm façade crumble into despair.

Reo passed peacefully.

Kuroko held their hand long after they died, until that hand grew cold in his grasp.

“It’s now or never,” Midorima said.

Kuroko nodded and let go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He woke up, neck aching, to the sound of someone crying.

He felt strangely empty. Alone.

Kuroko reached for Kiyoshi and found him gone.

He knew then who was crying. He felt a lot like crying, himself.

“Kiyoshi,” he said, opening his eyes, already searching for him. He was on the next bed over, curled in a miserable ball.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out. Reo’s voice. That would take time to get used to. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Kiyoshi.” Kuroko clambered to his feet, swaying unsteadily on his way over to him. He crawled into the bed beside him, wrapping his arms around Kiyoshi’s new body, holding him tight as he was wracked by quiet sobs. “I’m here.”

Kiyoshi reached clumsily around and grabbed his hand, too tightly. Kuroko interlaced their fingers, scooting up until he could tuck his head beneath his chin.

“I’m here,” he whispered again.

“I can’t feel you,” was what he managed to say back, “in my head. It’s so empty. It felt like you were dead.”

“I’m right here. I’ll never leave you, not for anything.”

Kiyoshi drew in a shuddering breath. “Promise me,” he said, soft, plaintive. Kuroko closed his eyes, squeezing his hand.

“I promise. We’re connected, you and I.”

They both laughed at his poor joke until laughter dissolved into quiet tears, holding onto each other as though if they let go they might fly away into pieces. Maybe they would, maybe they wouldn’t.

Kuroko wasn’t taking any chances on it.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, mostly to himself, thumb stroking over Kiyoshi’s knuckles. Remembering. He craned his neck, unmindful of the angle and kissed him fiercely.

“Always,” he grated out. “Always. Of course.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“What is it you’re always looking for you there, Kuroko?”Kiyoshi asked, leaning on the railing next to him. Always so close. It was an effort to drag his eyes away from those gleaming brown eyes and back to the stars._

_“Nothing in particular.”_

_“Nothing? Truly?”_

_“Nothing.”_

_Kiyoshi hummed low in his throat. “You know, it reminds me of something my grandparents used to say. ‘Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight’…I can’t remember the rest,” he finished with a sigh. “Something about wishing.”_

_“Wishing on stars?” Kuroko couldn’t laughing. “Seems a little ridiculous, don’t you think?”_

_Kiyoshi shrugged with an easy smile. “What would you wish for, Kuroko?”_

_You, he thought. Every time, I would wish for you._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really hard to believe that at last, this is the end of the journey. Thank you so much for sticking with me and seeing this story through to the end with me. I couldn't have done it with all of your support and kind words pushing me forward. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading.


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